Peggy vs. Pancake

Yesterday I had the opportunity to achieve a lifelong goal while knocking something else off of my Bucket List.  I am delighted to announce that I am officially the "Pancake Eating Champion" of my local IHOP restaurant. Not only did I earn bragging rights, but I won free IHOP for a year.

I have always wanted to enter an eating contest. While I've toyed with the idea in the past, I never found a contest that fit my pallet and skill set. When I received an email advertising the pancake eating competition, I immediately knew that I found the ideal challenge. I love pancakes, and the prize of free food for a year was highly motivating. I hoped that the combination of both greed and gluttony would propel me to a championship finish. 

I prepped for the competition by following due diligence throughout the day. I took Timmy to SkyZone in the morning to work up an appetite and limited my lunch to a small cup of soup. By the time dinner rolled around, I changed into my battle gear (my maternity underpants and an A-Line dress) as I prepared to take my rightful place in the archives of non-sanctioned competitive eating.

The first ten pancakes were fairly easy to consume. I paced myself and limited my water intake so that no unnecessary volume was taken in my stomach. By the fifth short stack, the number of competitors began to dwindle.  Before I knew it, it was just me against a lanky teenage boy. I could tell that he was beginning to hit the carbohydrate wall, so I decided to step up my game by introducing the smack talk. 

Acting cool and collected, I began to hum and make jokes with the waiter. I shot selfies while eating the pancakes, trying to appear as if I wasn't sweating and getting ready to vomit. I lined up the syrup flavors while vowing to eat a stack with each one. Finally, my competition tapped out.

I consumed 16.5 pancakes in 45 minutes. After shaking the managers hand and posing for photos, I left the restaurant proud of my accomplishment.  Secure in my coronation as Pancake Champion, I regret to admit that I didn't make it home before experiencing the dreaded "reversal of fortune." At that point it didn't matter if I vomited, because I had already received my prize of pancakes for a year. Unfortunately,  I doubt I'll ever want to eat those little round devils again.

 

 

 

Haircut

I don't need to be reminded that I'm an older Mom. My back creaks as a not so gentle reminder of my age every morning when I try to roll out of bed. I have gone from dyeing my hair for fun to desperately seeking a shade that will cover the grey. I overhear conversations of younger moms at the toddler playground. They are concerned about what to wear when they go drinking on Friday night because it has been a long time since they were able to "chill and dance." Meanwhile, the last time I danced it was to "Funky Town" in the kitchen with Timmy. I'm worried about whether or not the new wrinkle cream I bought was worth the $30 investment, I certainly don't relate to the debate over the $150 bra. 

Yesterday with Hamlet in tow, I was picking up a few things at the grocery store. My little guy entertained himself by waving and singing to anybody who happened to glance in his direction. His smile certainly does light up a room and can turn over the scowl of the grumpiest shopper. Checking out, the cashier remarked that I have a "gorgeous granddaughter." 

Seriously? I get that I'm older, but a grandmother?  And Timmy is a boy, not a girl. As I was lifting him out of the cart, his hair became snagged in the seat. Needless to say, I realized that the stars had aligned for me to do something I have been dreading: Timmy needed a haircut. 

Not wanting to lose my nerve, I drove directly to the barber. They were just unlocking the door when I pulled into the parking lot. With nobody else in the shop, I was thankful for small miracles. If he screamed, at least the disruption would be minimal. 

If I were to be completely honest, I would have to admit part of me dreaded his haircut because it is another sign that he is growing up. My sweet little baby boy is now a precocious toddler, inquisitive and into everything. Cutting his hair was the final transition between baby and toddler.

It turns out that my worrying was for naught. Timmy handled his first haircut like a champ, and he is even more adorable with his shaggy new do! My anxiety about his possibly crying kept my emotions at bay, so I didn't shed a tear either. Now that I have handled the confusion about his gender, maybe it is time for me to figure out how to address the grandma issue.

Juggling Schedules

A few years ago I stopped considering myself to be a stay at home mom. It took me awhile to realize that, although I work from home, I am putting in more than 40 contract hours per week for various employers. I am, in essence, a mom who happens to work at home while trying to juggle her kids at the same time.

I am extremely fortunate to be able to work from home, and I try never to take this benefit for granted. I sometimes feel like I am going batty as I struggle to keep up with Timmy and Robby while maintaining my professional responsibilities, but I wouldn't change my situation for anything in the world. If you ask me, I have the best of both worlds. I'm able to keep Timmy at home while earning a steady paycheck, all from the comfort of my house while wearing my cozy pink monkey pajamas. 

Every once in awhile a situation arises that necessitates me going into the office. During those circumstances, I'm forced to become creative when it comes to securing childcare for Timmy. When I learned that I needed to spend the entire day in the office yesterday, my first response was panic. It's difficult for me to ask for help, but I'm learning that it is okay to admit that I can't do it all. After a few phone calls, I managed to find care for him at Robby's school in the morning. Thankfully Scott was able to manipulate his schedule to pick him up at lunch time for the rest of the afternoon.

With Timmy's care situated, I was able to focus on the work at hand. I still don't like going to the office, but I tried to make it as productive as possible. Because of the near Herculean task of securing care for Timmy, I wanted to make sure that I accomplished everything necessary during one visit. 

As soon as my life calms down a bit (don't laugh, it could happen) I am going to start investigating child care. I am still going to keep Timmy home with me, but it will be nice to know that we have a viable back-up plan that doesn't involve begging and scrambling schedules. 

Greener Grass Underfoot

Prosthetic technology continues to improve at a rapid pace. I'm amazed at the differences between the prosthesis I utilized ten years ago and my modern version. At the time I was walking on the "state of the art" technology. Now the system appears clunky and obsolete compared to the latest innovations.

Yesterday I visited Elliot and was afforded the opportunity to walk on a new foot and ankle system. Although not a bionic or hydraulic device, the ankle does tout some active movement during ambulation. I was eager to attach it to my socket and give it a whirl!

Although it initially felt heavy, I was impressed with the smoothness and rollover when stepping. Stairs were easier because the foot seemed to reset into a natural position, allowing me to walk without altering my stride. With Timmy on my hip (his preferred position lately) I walked around outside, which is where I began to fully covet this new foot. I could easily walk up and down the ramps with a normal gait while holding Hamlet. For me, this is important because we walk a lot of hills together.

Unfortunately, I wasn't able to keep the foot. To my chagrin, Elliot dismantled my prosthesis and reattached my current foot. (It's odd how something that felt fine just an hour earlier suddenly felt outdated and barbaric in comparison.)  I'm going to begin the process to secure the foot, but I'm not terribly optimistic that it will happen quickly. I know that it will be a fight because it is always a battle trying to secure new devices and supplies. I guess I'd better get my battle armor ready!

Terrible Twos?

Timmy the Terrible has shown up and is full of energy and mischief. I feel like the only words being muttered from my mouth are "no" and "stop it." Despite my efforts, he doesn't respond to my verbal commands. I would worry that he has a hearing issue, but the lad can hear a bag of potato chips being opened through two closed doors while the TV is blasting. I know that he hears my directive; he is just choosing to ignore me. 

I am at a loss about what to do to correct him. I've tried time-out, which only allows him time to jump in place. Taking away toys doesn't seem to be effective. He knows that what he is doing is naughty, yet he doesn't care. Scott and I do not believe in spanking, but we are at our wits end on how to correct his behaviors.

I know that consistency is key, so we are trying to stay the course to correct his mischievous actions. I don't remember raising a toddler to be so exhausting!  Of course, as I am constantly reminded, I was nearly a decade younger the last time I went through this stage.