Jun 27, 2013 | life around portland
Portland is a beer nirvana for micro and craft brews. It was recently named to the number 1 spot in CNN’s “8 Best Beer Towns in America“. For the record, Philadelphia also made the list. That means that no matter what “home” state Kenny and I are in, we won’t be disappointed by the beer selection :).
Local beers are so prevalent in the aisles of Portland stores that I barely notice the national brands anymore. Haha. That said, you can imagine my surprise when I got sight of a young fella in the local supermarket buying this:
Yes. That’s a sixer of Rolling Rock. As in my Dad’s beer. As in the one that’s brewed (or at least was brewed!) in good old Latrobe, PA. As in the one my best friend and I (and my brother and his friends for that matter) used to favor because it was the beer of choice for our families.
How about that? 🙂
Jun 25, 2013 | life around portland
I had a funny realization last weekend at a potluck.
Side note: This was my first-ever “potluck”. Technically. I think back home, we’d have called it a barbeque. Maybe not though, since there wasn’t grilling involved. But it felt like a barbeque to me – haha. Either way, it was fun.
My best friend’s mom always made cannoli dip at parties and I always loved it. I thought this would be a fun thing to bring to the potluck, so I found a recipe and whipped up a batch to take with me.
I set it out along with graham crackers and one of the potluck-goers commented that it looked good. Her daughter asked her what it was. I was still standing there so I said, “Cannoli dip.” and smiled. Polite blank stares. Hmmmm. I quickly followed up with, “I just realized that maybe cannolis aren’t a thing here.” and giggled. I then went into a long explanation about being from Philadelphia and cannolis are a coveted dessert item for many (if not all! haha) East Coasters and this was a deconstructed version of them.
I then took an informal poll of some other potluck-goers and it seems that cannolis are perhaps offered in some authentic Italian eateries, but they aren’t really a Portland thing per se. Leave it me to bring a dessert that people never heard of – hahaha.
I was fascinated by this new found difference in the East and West Coast dessert scenes. You know I Googled ‘cannolis in portland oregon‘ when I got home. Hahaha. Turns out, they are available in some bakeries, most notably DiPrima Dolci. And – of course – there’s a food cart that serves them. I would have been disappointed if this were not the case. Haha.
Anyway, I used this cannoli dip recipe from Cooking Classy. I used milk instead of cream, halved the amount of milk and served it up with honey grahams and chocolate grahams. Delish.
I am not sure I converted any believers over to me and Kenny’s ‘We heart cannolis’ fan club, but there’s always the July 4th block party, right? I fully expect the West Coast chapter to take off then. 😉
Jun 20, 2013 | yup, i really did that
Apparently I am at the age where I can wreck my back doing nothing. Woot woot. I guess this just reinforces that starting to workout so I could still be mobile at age 40 was a good decision. It now seems I need to add some back strengthening to my elliptical repertoire.
On Saturday night, I literally lifted myself out of bed, felt a little twinge, continued on as normal because I felt no pain. That is, until Sunday at mid-day, when I had to retreat back to bed. I have been laid out since then. Today is the first day where I feel almost normal since then. Classic. I was in so much pain on Monday that I called out of work AND went to the doctor. This is the first time I can remember that I called out sick and actually didn’t work. When I don’t make it to my desk to sneak in some work, you know it’s bad. (Fine. I did go to my computer one time for five minutes. Sure, sure, I also monitored my BlackBerry, but that’s different. Totally doable from the supine position :).)
Other than the obvious things like not really being able to sit or walk pain-free, here’s how this little incident has added some delight to our week:
Happy Father’s Day, Kenny!
To celebrate what a great dad you are, I decided to instead give myself Mother’s Day round 2. So thoughtful, aren’t I? Poor guy was on full childcare duty+Bridget duty. It was actually worse than a regular old Sunday because he had to take care of me as I sat on the couch. He made us lunch and ran some errands. He brought me drinks and heating pads and pillows and blankets. And he only sighed / rolled his eyes once. Hahaha. We had dinner plans, but when I tried to put on pants and that made me cry, I sent him and the kids off without me. I guess, in a way, it turned out nice since he got some alone time with the kids?! (Right. I am not really buying that either, especially since I travel for work and Dad+kids dinner dates are pretty much the norm when that happens. And, since I was just away the week before last…yea. I think they were good on the alone time stuff.)
Kenny Really Does Love Me
See mention above about me putting on pants and crying. I was successful in getting myself ready for dinner, and was going to go. Kenny looked at my wincing face from merely standing in the bedroom and he said I wasn’t going. He was right. I couldn’t. Well, not without making a scene, anyway. I sat back on the bed to change back into comfy pants – AND couldn’t get my pants off because reaching to my ankles was impossible without faint-inducing pain. I started to cry. And laugh. At the same time. Which turned into this ridiculously hot mess of emotions that combined crying and laughing, but mostly crying. I just couldn’t believe how hurt I was from doing nothing. Grace came into the room and was VERY concerned by my crying: “Wait. Are you crying?” and then she started to fill up with tears, too. Ah, this child is going to be a special one, friends.
Needless to say, Kenny took my pants off for me. And, if you read from the top, it’s pretty clear that happened without the promise of any return. 😉 He must really love me, since I can only imagine this caused flash-forwards to our golden years. Hot. That’s all I can say about that. I am still mortified by the whole scene, but appreciate the humor in it, so figured I’d share. LOL.
First Ever Visit with a Chiropractor
Despite the pain and immobility, I was very reluctant to make a doctor’s appointment. My back felt like it needed to crack very badly. On top of that, I had severe muscle pain from the midpoint down. Ugh.
After weighing the pros and cons of going to say, urgent care, vs. those of going to a chiropractor, I decided that I would suck it up and make my first ever chiropractic appointment. Like many of you probably are, I was really scared by this. But I figured a regular medical visit would probably result in XRays and pain pills and potentially days of not knowing what was wrong. It seemed to me that a chiropractor would potentially be able to crack my back (which was my self-diagnosis / identified treatment) and fix the issue? Who knows. That was the rationale I ended up with to make my decision.
So I went on Monday. I drove myself which was a mistake. I felt EVERY pebble in the road. This confirmed for me that back injuries are my least favorite ailment – even above simultaneous double ankle / foot injuries and migraines. When your back hurts, every single thing you do seems to spike the pain, making you realize just how much / how hard this body part works. Had I planned better (i.e. called when I first woke up), Kenny could have taken me. But I slacked and suffered as a result.
Finally made it to the doctor’s office. He was very, very kind. I told him I was nervous. He said that was normal. I asked a zillion questions. He was patient, honest and thoughtful in his replies. He checked out my back and said, “Wow. You really did a doozy.” Yay. Go big or go home. Go big or go home. That’s my style. (It’s not really.) He told me what he wanted to try to help ease my pain. I said ok, and he attached some pads to my back for “muscle stim” which apparently helps tense muscles relax. This was combined with heat therapy.
After that, he tried to adjust my back – starting at the top between my shoulder blades. I screamed. Screamed. In his office, which is small so anyone in the waiting room or other treatment rooms definitely heard me. He laughed and said, “Ok, let’s try something different. Why don’t you turn to your side?” I sat up and tried to lay on my side. I couldn’t. Tears sprung up. Oh goody. This is not at all embarrassing. I sat there and looked at him. He was reassuring and told me not to rush it, etc. I tried again and yelped. And that was the end of that. Almost. He had me sit in a chair and adjusted my neck. Definitely strange, but didn’t hurt at all. He checked my lower back and declared I was having a muscle spasm and we should try again on Wednesday. Weeeee. He gave me some instructions and I ran out of there. (Totes joking. I could barely walk.)
The instructions included ice (not heat) and laying or sitting on a recline only. Well…that’s not practical for a working mom of two, is it? Haha. I thought about how I could heal and do some normal stuff as I shuffled (I mean I really shuffled!) to my car. I finally made it after what felt the longest journey of my life because of how slowly I had to go. I tried to gently lift myself into the seat following his instructions. Butt first, both legs at the same time. Yea, right, buddy. I am sure there is a video on YouTube somewhere out there documenting my 10 attempts to get into my car. It was pretty rich.
By the time I made it into the seat, I was sweating and exhausted. Hey – this counts as a workout since I can’t get to the gym, right? Haha. I cranked the air, laid back my seat and stayed there for 20 minutes. This is likely one of the most ridiculous things I have ever done in my life, but I was so sore I couldn’t drive. I need to get myself together. So, I texted and did smart phone stuff and cursed myself for not having Kenny take me. Although, in all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have been able to get myself into the car anyway. I think I just wanted his company – hahaha. In hindsight, it’s probably better that he didn’t see this scene after the great pants incident of Sunday afternoon.
I finally made it home, took some Tylenol and laid down for a three hour nap. I felt great (relatively speaking) when I woke up. The pain was no longer screaming. Still there, still not totally mobile, but definitely better. Woo hoo.
On Tuesday morning, I felt even better. Wednesday brought another chiropractor appointment. When I walked into the office, the receptionist said, “Oh good! You made it! I wasn’t sure if you were too terrorized to come back.” Hahaha. See? Told you everyone heard me screaming on Monday. It wasn’t anything the doctor did – it was simply because of how much pain I was in. Same drill as last time. Except this time I was in good enough shape for the full adjustment. Neck – check. Shoulder blades (?) – check. Upper back – check. Lower back – check. But I apparently have a tic that makes me scream during doctor treatments. This time, while he was in the process of doing the lower back treatment – I yelled: “I DON’T WANT TO DO THIS! I’M SCARED!” He did it anyway. Twice. Hahaha.
Am I freak show? Probably. But to be fair – judging solely by the position I was in – I was QUITE certain the chiropractic visit had ended and I was now auditioning for Cirque du Soleil. I didn’t get the part, but I did get invited back for another audition on Friday. 😉
Today (Thursday) – I feel about 85% – 90% normal. I was great all morning – my back actually felt better than it usually does. However, as the day wears on and I sit at my desk, I feel it getting tired. It aches a little. But nothing like the days before. I think I’m on the mend. Tomorrow, I am going to ask when I can go back to the gym. Haha. He said he’ll give me back exercises to do. (Hopefully they work at home, because I do not want to prance around the gym any longer than I have to.)
Would I recommend a chiropractor? Yes, but I would say read up on it beforehand and decide if you can handle it. I am still kind of freaked out by it. But I definitely feel much much much better since going. Sure, some of it is probably rest, but I am quite sure most of it is because of the adjustment.
Jun 13, 2013 | trying to raise humans
It seems like only yesterday that Gavin started Kindergarten. This year flew. Flew.
I sent him off on the bus this morning; he was happily giggling with his buddies from the neighborhood and had a stomach full of last day of school celebratory Voo Doo doughnuts thanks to an awesomely thoughtful neighbor who organized a communal breakfast for us. All week, I’ve been reflecting on how much he’s grown over the past nine months, which naturally transcended into me thinking about how much he’s grown overall. Much like the first day of Kindergarten (covered here and here and here. Geez, apparently, I was obsessive about that day), today, I realize I am again teetering on the brink of one of those parenting moments that I will likely remember forever. The last day of Kindergarten is proof that my baby has officially survived his first year of ‘boyhood’. If kindergarten was his first foray into becoming a boy, then being a first grader is the definitive, without a doubt, steel post marker on the path of boyhood. When he was in kindergarten, there were still flashes of pre-school Gavin. As of late, not so much. He’s more confident, smarter, more articulate, but at the same time still silly and loving like he’s always been. He’s no longer the youngest in the school. And I am at once proud and sad.
As every new parent knows, a commonplace – to the point of cliché – warning more tenured parents often share is “Enjoy your little ones now – it goes by so quickly.” And, like most (every?!) new parent / parent of pre-schoolers, I was definitely a secret eye-roller any time someone said this to me. Hahaha. I am always polite, but for some reason this statement was groan-inducing to me. I would nod and smile, but then overanalyze my momming because it seemed to imply I wasn’t enjoying it, and, really – let’s be honest here – sometimes, with toddlers and pre-schoolers, it feels like time can’t go fast enough. One terrible tantrum and you can find yourself wishing for the next phase – like the day that little Johnny can channel his emotions, understand rationale / rules / fairness, clean up his toys, wipe himself, dress himself, feed himself, etc. Yet, with a child’s growing independence, there seems to also come a sense of living in a speeding, futuristic time warp. For example, I am totally happy Gavin wipes himself now, but I yearn for the snuggly six- / nine- / 12- / 18-month-old who only had eyes for me. That seems so very long ago. It’s a funny thing about parenting – each phase of life has its own joys and challenges, so you can often find yourself all at once nostalgic and longing for the future to see what’s next. As I sit here and type, I am thankful for those other parents warning me about time going too quickly. Today – this very minute – I realize that this is actually NOT a dig, but actually a real warning – coming from a good place: deep within the heart and soul of a wistful parent who remembers their own young ones at whatever age my kids were when they said it. So, take heed, newbs, kids REALLY DO grow up crazy-fast and you will soon be sitting there with a first grader wondering how the heck it happened. Get out there and make some memories and take lots of pictures, ya whipper-snappers. 😉
I am thankful for today. I sat and thought and pictured my kindergarten graduate at each phase of his life. The little baby who didn’t love to sleep, is now an almost-first grader who doesn’t love to sleep (too much fun to be had). The toddler who asked a million questions about toys and books now asks a million questions about things he sees around him every day. The preschooler who liked all his belongings just so still presents as a kindergartner. Only now that little soul can also read, do some math, tell me about practically every animal that ever stepped foot (or paw) in the swamp, and ask meaningful questions about the world around him.
It’s fascinating to see how this little guy is growing – taking the core of his being and building on it bit by bit. It’s an amazing process to experience – to literally watch someone come into their own time and time again, with each new phase of life. I am thankful I am really still only at the beginning of this journey. Man, being a mom is awesome.
Jun 12, 2013 | life around portland
Portland is widely lauded as one of the most dog-friendly cities in America. It’s definitely kind of shocking coming from Philadelphia, where, say…I’ve never shopped at Old Navy with a pit bull. Within two weeks of moving to Portland, I’d done that. And within a month of moving here, I’d also shopped with a pomeranian in Home Depot. To Grace’s delight, the pomeranian was shaved to look like a lion and was being pushed around in the front seat of the cart. Now that we’ve been here for over a year and a half, we’ve seen first hand the many ways Portland loves dogs – dogs go anywhere their people go, restaurants and shops offer bowls of fresh water, free dog treats for shopping pets, etc.
Recently, I noticed that Washington Square Mall (our version of King of Prussia…only much, much smaller) has a doggie rest area outside the mall. It was so inviting, my kids took off into it before we knew what it was. Say it with me now: ewwwwwww. Nonetheless – this tickled me and I thought I would share. It’s pretty much nicer than my backyard was in Jenkintown. Hahaha.
