Ok, ok, so its been over a month since I last updated my blog. Sorry (Ami/ http://bigcitynatu.blogspot.com/) as I believe she is the ONLY person in the free world who reads this blog anyway. I have just felt really lazy unmotivated the past few weeks. Blame it on the month if you will- February...ugh. Chicago hasn't had a bad winter in two years, so I really have no right to complain, but February is just awful. There is nothing worse:  Gray skies. Cold weather. Gross produce. Itchy skin. Dry air. Cliche valentines day gifts. Yellow snow. Icy roads. Bare trees. Short days. Short month (this is just weird and throws everything off). You get my drift. I am clearly not a fan of February. I blame my lack of recent blog posts on this dreadful month.

 

Anyway, I digress. It is only the second week of March and things are already starting to look up. I have been enlightened (and motivated) by recent conversations, books, and the people in my life. Last week for instance, I had an amazing conversation with my friend Jill about artificial sweeteners and their effects on the human body. She really got me thinking and was able to convince me that even the one sweet n' low packet I put into my cup of joe each morning is reeking HAVOC on my health (ie: metabolism). She is always so great to hear from and always knows the right thing to say at the right time. You may be asking yourself how is this Jill person such an expert and why do I put so much trust into what she says. Well, my friends, that's because Jill's last name is Michaels......as in Jillian Michaels....Yes, THE Jillian Michaels.

 

Confession: Jillian and I are not really friends (in case you didn't know). I was just one of the lucky ones who's question was chosen to be answered on her weekly podcast. If you haven't checked it out yet, I suggest you do so immediately. It's life changing and not to mention hilarious. It gets me through my long work commutes and inspires me every week. Anyway, we talked about the damaging effects of aspartame (let's just say that I have moved on to sugar in the raw) and her LIVE tour that is coming up. My friends Ami and Chelsea are going with me to see her LIVE at the Auditorium theater on May 10th (http://www.fortmilltimes.com/2013/02/20/2507446/jillian-michaels-announces-maximize.html). She told me she was going to look for me at her show and pull me up on stage. When I said "That would be so awesome" she replied with "HA! Um, no it wouldn't. Just wait." Who knows, maybe I will be forced to do 100 burpees on stage in front of 2,000 randoms or something. Stay tuned, I will be sure to blog all about this!

 
More March Awesomeness: March also brought with it the South Side Irish Parade. Being born and raised on the south side of Chicago (yes Chicago, not the burbs), I wouldn't miss this day for the world. Well, I did once actually- It was in 2009 when me and my friends Kelly and Theresa decided to celebrate our heritage in South Boston by attending the "Southie" parade. It was a great experience, but didn't stack up against the South Side of Chicago's festivities. 

 

For nearly 10 years, I participated in the parade by Irish Dancing my way down Western avenue with the rest of the crew from my Irish dancing school. The night before each parade, my mom would sit my sister and I down in front of her as she wrapped each strand of our hair in those pink spongy curlers. She would then send us off to bed telling us to not "try and move much during the night. " I remember trying to lay as still as possible all through the night and waking up with a kink in my neck the next morning. Today, the Irish dancers have it much easier. All they do now is wake up the morning of the parade (sans neck kinks) and put on their wig. Yes, a WIG filled with artificial curls that make them look more "authentic." All I can say to this is: WOWZERS. 

 

Anyway, once my dancing days were over, I moved on to celebrating the parade day with close friends. In high school, this looked like wandering along the parade route with a twelver of Bush Light in our backpacks hoping the police wouldn't stop to check (which they never did). Our college days were much more classier. We would pile into my friends' backyard who lived along the parade route for a nice Irish (beer) breakfast (7am drinking is normal, right?) and then head off to the parade with beer goggles and smiles for miles. We would eventually squeeze ourselves into one of the bars on Western (usually Cork and Kerry) and continue to drink until closing time. Looking back, I don't know how I did it, but man was it a blast. 

 

Our parade festivities look much different these days....more "grown up." Bush Light has turned into Guinness and Mimosas, husbands and wives celebrate together, the smell of corn beef and cabbage (as opposed to cigarette smoke) fills the air, and little Irish Lads (our kids) run around wearing green tutus and mini Irish sweaters holding shamrock cookies in their chubby little hands. They are learning how to do things right; how to celebrate South Side style. At the end of the day, all of this makes me remember where I come from and why the South Side is so special and dear to my heart. 

*There is truly no other place like it.

We're the Windy City Irish-where the craic is always best
Where every day is Paddy's Day and everyone's a guest
If you're Irish on the North Side or Irish on the West
Welcome to the South Side come join our Irish Fest!

(Chorus) We're the South Side Irish as our fathers were before
We come from the Windy City and we're Irish to the core
From Bridgeport to Beverly from Midway to South Shore
We're the South Side Irish-Let's sing it out once more!

Our parents came from Mayo, from Cork and Donegal.
We come from Sabina, St. Kilian's and St. Gall
St. Leo, Visitation, Little Flower and the rest.
The South Side parishes are mighty-they're the best!

(Chorus) We're the South Side Irish as our fathers were before
We come from the Windy City and we're Irish to the core
From Bridgeport to Beverly from Midway to South Shore
We're the South Side Irish-Let's sing it out once more!

We live on the South Side-Mayor Daley lived here too
The Greatest Irish Leader that Chicago ever knew
he was always proud of his South Side Irish roots!
So here's to his honor to his memory we'll be true.

(Chorus) We're the South Side Irish as our fathers were before
We come from the Windy City and we're Irish to the core
From Bridgeport to Beverly from Midway to South Shore
We're the South Side Irish-Let's sing it out once more!

We sing the songs our fathers sang when they were growing up
Rebel songs of Erin's Isle in South Side Irish Pubs
and when it comes to baseball-we have two favorite clubs
The Go-Go White Sox... and whoever plays the Cubs!

Last week, on Super Bowl Sunday, I SUCCESSFULLY ran my first 5k. That’s right folks, I ran the WHOLE WAY THROUGH!  Now, if you had told me a few months ago, that I would eventually be able to run 3.1 miles without stopping, I would have laughed in your face. Actually, I laughed at myself a few times during the beginning weeks of my Couch 2 5k training program. I DID NOT believe that I could do it.  However, somewhere between weeks 5-7, things started to change. I started to believe in myself.  I started to get the confidence I needed to take me to that next level.  My body was starting to feel different:  Strong.   Lean.  Proud.  

I remember the first time that I was able to run for 24 minutes straight – It was week 7. Holy Shit.  Did I just do that?  I don’t know if it was my Gatorade Pre- Fuel drink or my Eminem playlist blasting through my headphones that got me through it, but I was certain about something. Regardless of the fact that I felt like I was going to barf, I felt AMAZING. That day, I KNEW I was going to run the 5k straight through.  I had only one more week of training. The race would be here in the blink of an eye.

On race day, I woke up with a pit in my stomach.  It was snowing and with the wind chill, it was about 5 degrees.  Ugh. Chicago, why are you being so cruel? As we drove to Soldier Field for the race (http://www.chitownbiggame10k.com/), I told Costa that I had felt the same way the morning we drove to the hospital for me to give BIRTH to Sophia. It was a mixture of anxiety, joy, and dread. 

By the time we got to the parking lot, I was feeling much better.  I looked around as people got out of the cars. Laughing, joking around, some in silly outfits.  “This is going to be fine” I told myself.  I noticed people from all walks of life and people of all shapes and sizes.  I saw a woman who looked to be about 50 years old with an extra 20 pounds on her frame. “Ok, if she can do this, so can you. Get with it Sara!”

Everyone lined up at the START line. I stayed towards the back with the other novice runners.  I looked around. We were all there for the same reason- to add our first (or another) 5k to our list of accomplishments.  Here we go. Go time.

As I ran, I tried to stay in the moment.  This was my first 5k after all and I wanted to remember everything.  I remember how cold it was.  How the snow fell on my eye lashes and melted as soon as it touched my cheeks. I remember how my legs felt like there were disconnected from my body. They had a mind of their own that day. They were there to move; to finish this thing in all of its glory. I remember seeing the back of Costa’s neon green shirt as he ran ahead of me (I felt so proud of him). I remember the girl who was running in front of me and what she was wearing (put on some pants girl! Shorts in February is just cray cray). I remember the point when I rounded the back of the McCormick Place and could see Soldier Field in the distance. “Ok, I am getting close. It’s gotta be less than a mile now.”  I was losing my stamina.  “Keep running.  Whatever you do: DON’T STOP. You trained for 8 weeks for this. PUSH YOURSELF! You got it! ” The internal dialogue in my head was my biggest cheerleader that day.  

Finally, I saw the finish line.  I saw people with cameras taking pictures of me and all the others who were approaching that glorious line.  I saw Gatorade and water waiting on the other side.  I saw family and friends waiting for their runners. 

I saw my feet cross the finish line and lastly, I saw my end time: 37 minutes.

Monday, January 28, 2013: I had extreme anxiety as I walked to the gym a few hours ago. Negative thoughts raced through my head:

“There is no way you are going to run for 28 minutes without stopping”

“You had to skip training last week because you were sick, you messed it all up!”

“You barely made 20 minutes the other week.  No way are you going to be able to do this”

Well, guess what?  I DID it. I just ran for 28 minutes straight.  That is literally the longest amount of time I have ever run for in my life.  I am 31 years old and training for my first (and hopefully, not last) 5k.

When I first started this training program, I could barely run two minutes. NO JOKE.  I don’t know if it was the mental blocks or the fact that I am was just sooooo out of shape. I began this journey 8 weeks ago and now, in my last week of training, I can say that I FEEL READY!  Our race is on Super Bowl Sunday.  In 6 days, I will put on my cold weather gear (yes, I bought those hideous Under Armor running tights that make even the most hottest bodies look nasty) and my long sleeved, mock turtle neck (yep, got one of those too.  I look like an out of shape Cat Woman when I wear this get up).  I will lace up my trusty (and old) Saucony gym shoes and head out with Costa to brave the chill of a Chicago Winter morning, along the coast of Lake Michigan. Stay Tuned.........

What is that smell?

The other night, on my drive home from work, I was listening to a podcast that I had recently downloaded, called “The Splendid Table.” The host was interviewing a woman who had lost her sense of smell after she had used one of those nasal inhalers for a cold she had. Note to self: NEVER use one of those inhalers! Luckily, the woman regained her sense of smell (after a few months) and so, the story had a happy ending. Anyway, I was really affected by this story; it made me think of all the smells in the world, or at least my world that I take for granted on a daily basis. To name a few:

1. Fresh Christmas Trees

2. Sophia's bedroom ( ahhh baby smell!)

3. Riley after he gets groomed

4. Costa and Costa when he wears Cologne

5. Basil,parsley, and cilantro

6. ROMANCE perfume

7. Lou Malnates pizza

8. Our house

9. Sweet Pea car fresheners

10. Bon Fires in summer and Fire Places in the winter

These are just a few of the smells I love.  What about you?  Any smell that you would miss if you lost your sense?

Couch to 5k. Real or real dumb?

YOU CAN DO IT!

Last week, I began training for my first ever 5k.  Well, actually, I take that back. My friend Ellen and I did the Wrigley 5k a few years back, but we pretty much walked the whole way.  There was no training involved, and I didn’t feel like I really accomplished anything.  With that said, this one is going to be different.

I am committed to running the entirety of this race. But, how does one who is 10 pounds 25 pounds overweight and in horrible shape accomplish such a thing?  Well, it’s simple.  Get my ass up and running and STOP making excuses!  With the help of my new 5k app, excessively listening to Jillian Michaels podcast, Sophia’s 2.5 hour naps, lunch break workouts, a sweet ass playlist, and encouraging words from Costa (who is also training for this), I think I can do it!  

Last weekend was my first outdoor run and I loved it!  The cold air, Christmas decorations, and the sound of my loud ass elephant feet pounding the pavement gave me the motivation I needed!  Let’s just hope this lasts. Wish me luck. 

"Thank you dear Sara for all the great help all throughout the semester :) Surely, we will work with Mustafa and see what his schedule is..How many hours of study halls and groups can be created dear Sara?"

 

This is an email that I received from a foreign language professor this morning.  For some reason, the fact that she addressed me as "Dear Sara" really made my morning.

 

Happy Thursday!

IF only my name had an "H" at the end....

 

 

 

 

 

BB (Baby Barf)

A post I wrote a while back, but never had the ballz to post....

Gross. Gross. Gross.  Peanut had her one year check up last night.  So, after work, I raced to pick her up from Yia Yia and Papou's house (her Greek grandparents that watch her most of the week), strapped her into her "big girl" car seat (we installed it last week for her 1st birthday!) and headed on over to her pediatrician's office. Half way there, I hear a weird sound coming from the back seat.  I turn back only to witness Sophia barfing all over herself.  Like, real adult-like puke.  WTF? Could she have the flu?  Is she car sick?  Was it something she ate?

I decided to still go to the doctor's despite the fact that she was covered in throw up. Once we arrive, I try to get her out of her car seat without getting chunks everywhere and trying really hard to avoid getting any of the pink stuff on my "nice" work clothes. Epic Fail.  We head straight to the bathroom where I take off all of her clothes and gently place her under the sink. I am splashing water everywhere trying to clean her up and no matter how hard I try I cannot get the smell of barf off of her (or me for that matter)  Oh well, I am sure they have seen worse.  Uh. Oh. It dawns on me that since I came straight from work, I am not toting along my obnoxiously HUGE diaper bag, and oh shit- I have no back up clothes.   Isn't it a rule for all moms who have toddlers to keep back up clothes in their car????  Yeah right- Guess its just one of the many “mom rules” that I am bound to break over the next 18 years.

We enter the office 30 minutes late due to horrific suburban traffic and the barf debacle.  I walk into the office, holding a baby clad in only a diaper who reeks of barf, sweat dripping off my face, and puke on my  cardigan.  The receptionist looks at me as if to say:  "Are you F'ing serious" but instead says "Your Late." Nice lady.  Real Nice.

I try to explain to her what happened.  I apologize profusely for being late (I am NEVER late for things) and tell her that I am concerned for Sophia and good thing today is her one year check up so the doc can take a look!  She opens her mouth and says what a full time working mom who barely has time for doctor appointments does not want to hear:  "Uh, sorry to say but the doctor probably won't see her today since she just got sick.  You are going to have to RE-SCHEDULE."  Reschedule?  Uh, no.  Simply not an option.  I begin to assure her that "she probably just got car sick.... I mean, uh....I am sure she's fine...she has been normal all day." She goes back to talk to the doctor and comes back with good news- doc has agreed to see the peanut!  Thank God.

The appointment went well.  All of her vitals checked out, no signs of any virus, and Sophia is a healthy 22 pounds and 31 inches.  She gives me a plastic bag and a couple of paper towels,wishing me luck and reminding me that I have to clean out a car seat full of barf before I leave. Crap.  I almost forgot.

Ok, so how am I going to do this?  I only have two arms, one (naked) baby, and no where to put her while I clean her car seat out. I place Sophia on my right hip, open the car door, and begin to scoop the barf out of her car seat, throwing it onto the pavement.  Don't judge. I take the paper towels and put them down in the car seat so Sophia doesn't get all wet and gross from any leftover puke.  As this is all unfolding, the doctor’s office staff (3 women who are moms keep in mind) stroll out and avoid looking my way.  Really ladies?  You are not going to help a fellow (still somewhat new) mom out?  Ass holes.

We have a peaceful ride home and Sophia is happy as a clam.  It must have been some kind of fluke...

A severe t- storm is brewing and so I rush to let the Donald out before he gets wet, grab the mail, and get the car seat out of my car.  I make a bottle, take peanut up to her room, get her PJ's on and slide comfortably into her glider.  Ahhhhh,  easily the best part of my night. Before she even has one sip from her bottle, she climbs up on me and rests her head of my shoulder. Hmmm….this is unlike her, but I like it.  She stays there for a few minutes before I hear a familiar sound.  Gurgle. Gurgle. Barf.  Not again.  Only this time it's worse.  There is more of it and BOTH of us are covered this time. Head to toe.  It begins to drip.... going onto the carpet and getting all over her pretty pink chair. Have I mentioned yet that I am an OCD  Danny Tanner-esque neat freak?

Ok, think fast.  I stand up slowly, keeping her body smashed against mine in an attempt to not allow the barf to escape onto my clean hardwood floors. We make it to the bathroom.  I get her naked (again) and put her in the tub.  I then take off all of my clothes because they are literally covered in puke. If someone walked in right then they would see: A frantic mom in just her skivvies leaning over a bath tub cleaning off a baby whose body (and hair) is covered in gross pink chunks and a bathroom floor with specks of fallen barf all over it. NOT A PRETTY SIGHT.

I get her all cleaned off, dressed in fresh pj's, and rock her to a peaceful state of sleepiness before putting her down in her crib.  I walk out of her room praying that the thunder doesn't wake her up; it's unusually loud and has begun to down pour.  It’s now 8pm and I have zero appetite, probably because I have been submerged in barf for most of my evening.  So, I grab a glass of red wine (what else?) and head downstairs to watch some Real Housewives of Orange County (embarrassing I know).  Now I can relax.

Oh Shit.  THE DONALD.

I run upstairs and fling the back door open.  The Donald is trembling on the back stoop, soaking wet and covered in mud.  Poor dog. I let him in as he gets mud all over my fresh clean hardwood floors and wet dog smell all over the basement.  After years of having dogs, that smell still gets to me.  I dry him off, give him some grub and direct him to his dog bed.  "Stay Riley."  He begins to nod off, just as peacefully as Sophia had.  Peace and quiet fill our home. Feet up. Ahhhhh….

When Costa gets home, I tell him about what a shit show night we had and how helpless, scared, and anxious I felt at times. He reminds me that this is "Parenthood" and that there are plenty more experiences where that one came from.  He's right.  This is (part) of what being a parent is all about.  Taking care of sick babies and sometimes nutty dogs, racing to 6pm check-ups, making bottles, and having messy floors (something I am still trying to cope with). When all is said and done though, this is an experience that I will never forget, one that made me laugh, and one that brought me closer to my little peanut. Sometimes being covered in barf isn't all that bad.