Slim vs. Smile

September is upon my heels, and there’s so much that’s happened. What can I say except that I’m a lousy blogger. No I take that back, I am not lousy just lazy. To keep you up to date, I can say that Styles has been smiling, speaking baby in his gurgling ways. It's, how can I say, magical! Magical! Besides, trying to fit into my deep abyss of pre-pregnancy wardrobe, is a big to do! And I thought I was chunky before the pregnancy. Chuckle. These days I'd be lucky, if I can get my pants past my knees. (A mild exaggeration...a little higher in the thigh region.)

I’ve been driving across town to the Marina to cinch my ever growing waistline at the Dailey Method or as a friend would like to call it the Jane Fonda work out. It’s an hour of great music and women determined to hold on to their youth with me included. Big plus, they have childcare! Sigh. Yes, and I even gave in to purchasing lullulemon gear. Hell, Jill the owner, is practically the spokesperson. I fell into the peer pressure. I just wanted to fit in.

Some mother's are lucky, they push their baby out and "whap" just like that, they're abs are back in play! I, on the otherhand, am slightly cursed. I'm not fat, but I'm not skinny. I'm a marsupial. I have a fanny pack. A pouch. A pooch. A bulge of fun. If I could lose ten pounds, I would be good. If I could lose twenty, I would be perfect! Problem is, losing two pounds is like a prayer to god. So I ask myself, "I say self? What can I change? Increase cardio? Take up jumping rope perhaps? Sprinting? Weights? Diet?"

I've been bashing my head trying to figure out my error in ways. I think it''s my diet. I love food. I'm a foodie! A former chef (when I say chef I mean a line cook) what can I say, I live in one of the best culinary cities. I’m taking three hour lunches at my favorite haunts like Bar Bambino, Boulettes Larder, Delfina Pizzeria, Salthouse polishing off a couple glasses of roset only to follow up with a nice kid portion of malt ice cream at Bi-Rite creamery the best homemade organic ice cream this side of the Mission. By then, I’ve put back the calories I attempted to ditch that very morning so I do a couple laps around Dolores Park.

As we are planning on our second sometime soon, I want to make sure my body is a slender machine. Studies have shown that gestational diabetes will not occur in women that is slightly under weight. Hence, my want to lose my fanny pack. My pouch. My pooch. My bulge of fun. I enjoyed my last pregnancy, but I didn't enjoy the gestational diabetes aspect not one tidbit.

I realize that I am different. I am not that woman with a resilient abs of steel. I have to work harder. I have to watch what I eat. Or eat less. Or eat more often, but in small portions. All the same, I heart food. So I say, "Self? You must increase the cardio" So when Styles recognizes my voice when I call his name and his eyes light up and his mouth curls into a super smile. My heart does a triple axel somersault. My eyes brighten. I am awe inspired. I want to carry him in my arms and fly to the moon and back. I say to myself, "Self, I’ve got it damn good!" Sigh. I love being a mom! I have absolutely no agenda except to spend precious time with Hunter. I couldn’t ask for anything more. Sure I could lose some weight, but my weight has taught me to be patient. Besides, the flattest abs will never make me feel as golden as when my son smiles.

This is Shellie's heart skipping a beat back to you Bob at the studio.

Irie

We had no more family coming to visit. It was a relief. We survived the onslaught of relatives. It was a last minute decision, as I skirted the issue unable to commit. Would Styles have an allergic reaction to the north woods? Lately, I’ve managed a daily routine that included Styles and Hunter. I am confident that Styles was ready for his first camping trip! The yuppie wagon was stuffed with camping gear, mostly food and spirits and my usual impractical outfits. Hunter was accompanied by his backseat buddies Cliff and Chloe. Hendrix played in the CD, “Dewd, where’s the reggae?” Cliff starting on his jabs early.
“Aw crap! I forgot it.” Most of the time, I had to pick up my short term memory off the floor. Otherwise, I was too busy trying to make sure all essentials were packed for Styles.
“C’mon mann it’s Reggae Rising!” Cliff with a quick jab and a clue. It was dusk on Thursday and the traffic was mild, yet not mild enough to get out of the city quick enough. We were on our way to Reggae Rising formerly Reggae on the River which took place four hours North in Piercy. I have a deep fervor for the Redwoods and the Eel river. Styles awoke on the last leg of the trip and sang Cliff a loud lung song. “Oh my god, did you just turn the music louder?” Cliff chuckled in amusement, “He’s been going for about thirty minutes. He should be stopping anytime now.”
“I know, I think he’s losing his voice.” I turned Mos Def up a couple decibels to drown out my son’s wails. My selective hearing was paramount.

We arrived at the camp sight around eleven o’clock. The silence was wonderful. Joel sat at the camp fire as the logs crackled. Ruby, president of Styles fan club and potential baby sitter, crept out of her tent, “Is Hunter up?”
“He is, but he needs to eat then he’s going to bed.”
“Is that why he’s crying?” Ruby’s observation sharp as a knife.
“Yes. You can hang out with him tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Ruby smiled and returned to her tent.

Joel poured me a glass of white and offered the men a tug off of the bottle labeled Knob Creek. Let the decompression begin! We retired to bed. The sky jeweled with stars, I lay my head on the down pillow with Styles peacefully resting Shane kissed me good night.

I was awoken by the feeling that we were being watched. A light rustling came from outside the tent. There they stood Ruby and Simon, another disciple of Styles fan club and future baby sitter, peered into the tent with no sense of privacy. “Can I hold him now?” Ruby smiled with all her adorable charm.
“Girl he is still sleeping.” I yawned.
“Wake him up?” The dictator of fan club insisted.
“Hey did you hear that? I think your dad’s calling you?” I tried to dissuade them from waking up the kid.
“No he’s not.” Dictator Simon was on to me, “no one’s calling us.”
“Yes, do you hear that?” I conjured their imagination.
“No, I don’t hear anything” The dictator sneered.
“Simon and Ruby get away from there let them sleep.” Maxine, mother of disrupters, whipped them into shape.

I was tempted to go back to sleep, but the morning light dusted the top of our tent. It was hard to get back to sleep especially when most of the air in the mattress had escaped. I got dressed and left Styles to continue resting. I craved a full flavored mug of decaf coffee and a cup of Wullaby yogurt. Traci and crew gathered at our site, thus she began organizing the breakfast menu. The sweltry air made my skin sticky. I couldn’t wait to get to the watering hole.

It was a divine day as we headed down the watering hole with our coolers stuffed with alcoholic beverages, water and snacks. We were welcomed with cheer and delight. Jill and Greg were accessorized with a bottle of beer waist high in the water. Randall and Gabby boasted their fancy water furniture. Lorelei, old roommate, whom I haven’t seen in over five years waded in the water. It was a reunion of sorts. Besides all the positivity, we were all equipped with ice cold beverages.

Baby rested in his bassinet on shore, he was sealed in protective sun block. My heart went pitter patter as his chest rise and fell from his deep sleep. I couldn’t wait to introduce him to the water. In the meantime, Chloe was sopping wet, resembling a wet rat. Soon enough, Styles was awaken by the tempered heat. I removed his diaper and held him to my sticky skin. It was evident that he was irritable and hot. I handed him off to Shane for quick cool quenching. I scrambled around for my camera. This was huge! Photos were in order! Everyone watched with a curious eye. Shane held him at his chest and not a whimper. Ha! He was my kid! He enjoyed the water. Within five minutes Styles closed his eyes to return to his rest. Meanwhile, Chloe on her own accord adventured into the water. It was a joyous day.

The night was all about Reggae. A group of us got on the shuttle and made way to the music grounds. Ticket prices were ridiculous, but we knew there was a group discount to be had. I felt like we were on the hunt for drugs as we nonchalantly inquired about tickets. For the three nights of Reggae, Styles slumbered in the bjorn, but he was among thousands. The highlight of the weekend next to the watering hole was the Marley brothers. Hubba Hubba. It felt great to be admired by many for introducing the culture at such an early age. It was love!

It’s so easy to get sucked into the day to day of living in the city. It is ridiculous to get sucked into the blackhole called drama. It isn’t hard to get drawn into the undertow of surviving. Reggae Rising was a privledge. It was the perfect prescription. A big dose of redwoods and friends. It brought Shane and I closer, as well as our friends. We can't wait to next year where we’ll hopefully thicken our love for nature and reggae. I can not preface enough how important it is to slow down. Life is roots. Without roots we have no life. We would like to send our appreciation out to the Blescakecs for showing us the light.

This is Shellie "I swear I did not inhale" back to you Bob at the studio.