The in the Middle Mama

just another mama doing her thing

back in the swim of things

eagerly awaiting their turn to get in the pool!

I don’t remember learning how to swim, but then again, I don’t remember not knowing how to swim either. I’ve always been comfortable around water, I grew up with a pool and then moved into a house on a lake, but my swimming skills are far from professional! I knew long before I became a parent that I wanted my kids to not simply be comfortable in the water, but to be confident!

Living in Chicago, the Lake Michigan temperatures are not often conducive to swimming, and residential pools are hard to come by. This is where Goldfish Swim School came into play; when Palmer was just over four months we decided to enroll her in the Mini 1 lessons, and much to our relief, she LOVED it! We attended lessons for several months, and sadly made the decision to take a break from our Friday evening swim dates shortly after I found out we were having another baby (Kedzie).

  • LOOK at that squish – this is Palmer at one of her first Goldfish lessons (February 2017)
  • Luke and Palmer
  • SO happy!

Once Kedzie arrived and we settled into a new routine, we decided we should get Palmer back in the pool! Friends of ours suggested we take a class through the park district, and we tried, but the insanely large class size made for a student to teacher ratio I wasn’t comfortable with. The class size, coupled with the fact that the only time offered was Saturday mornings, led to us only attending four sessions in the three months we were enrolled.

We knew we didn’t want to keep Palmer away from the water for long, and we knew we wanted to get her back to swimming at Goldfish, but we decided to wait until Kedzie was old enough to attend lessons as well. Then life got in the way and we didn’t get the girls enrolled until Kedzie was just over one. (I already imagine the day Kedz will guilt me with, “You started Palmer in lessons waaayyyy before me.”) In February we began taking the girls to Goldfish Swim School in Roscoe Village. I was given the option to enroll Palmer in the Mini 2 class (parent accompanies the child) which Kedzie would be in, or bump her up to the Mini 3 (child swims with their coach – no parent in the pool).

fish out of water

I decided Palmer had enough practice with the Mini 2 activities, and that the Mini 3 would be better for her growth. What I didn’t anticipate was it being so difficult to get her into the pool. To be honest, I am not sure she even touched the water during the first lesson. I felt awful. Here we were doing something that she had historically loved and she was in hysterics begging me not to leave her and insisting she didn’t want to swim. I didn’t know what to do – on the one hand I knew if she got in the pool she would love it, but on the other, this was my baby crying and reaching out for me. Ultimately I sat on the side of the pool and consistently urged Palmer to sit and observe if she wasn’t going to participate.

Now I would be completely remiss if I didn’t highlight right here and now that every member of the staff was so willing to help. No one made me feel judged, and in fact everyone assured me this was completely normal. When I spoke to the pool supervisor, Andrew, I asked if I should just walk away or what the best way was to handle the situation. He offered the insight that this was completely normal for week one, and perhaps the following week it would be best if I dropped Palmer off and then got out of her line of sight.

The following week, I took Andrew’s advice (and sweetened the deal with an ice cream bribe, because #momlife,) and Palmer did so much better! She has continued to progress week-over-week, she asks me every day if she is going to see Pedro (her coach). What’s more? Just this last week when I picked her up, Pedro shared that she executed on every task he gave her during the class!

testing the waters

If you would have asked me prior to our return to the pool, I would have said I was more anxious about how Kedzie’s experience would go than Palmer’s. Having never taken formal lessons, and never having been in an indoor pool, I had no idea what Kedz’s reaction would be to the classroom environment. However, her Mini 2 experience has been completely positive! While she is not as advanced as some of the other fish and is unable to complete all of the tasks, we’re modifying them to what she is capable of, and she is just happy to be in the water! In the 8 weeks Kedz has been taking lessons, we’ve already noticed:

  • Her kicks are stronger
  • She’s excellent at cleaning up (a skill we’re hoping will transfer outside of the pool)
  • She has less angst about floating on her back

all-in-all it’s a splashing good time

We’re so happy to be back in the pool, and love that Goldfish is our swim home! The girls look forward to their lessons every week, and Palmer is borderline obsessed with her Goldfish ribbon collection – she insists upon showing it off to anyone who visits!

We’re so excited to continue to watch our girls progress in the pool, and can’t wait to see them in the lake this summer!

Thank you Goldfish Swim School for sponsoring this post.

I wasn’t ready to say goodbye, but I’m doing my best to accept you were

Let me just state this now,  I know this post will resonate with some, and register as silly to others; I don’t care. Monday through Friday I spend my days writing and editing work that means nothing to me, and my blog is my place to write for me, and today it’s my place to write for him.

It’s no secret that writing is therapeutic for many, and I am no exception. I have perpetually struggled to verbalize the way I feel (in an appropriate manner) aloud. Getting what’s in my head onto paper has always made me more intentional with what I say, and grants me the opportunity to think through what I’m truly feeling. Writing has helped me understand happiness and heartbreak, it’s allowed me to laugh, and remember.

why I’m writing

It turns out today is #nationalloveyourpetday – in today’s hashtag world, it is always something, but when I settled the girls down for breakfast this morning and heard the news mention that today is, “a great day to show your love for our furry friends,” I knew it was time to deal with something I have been avoiding.

Early last Friday, I made the hardest decision of my life thus far. As a result of this decision, I said goodbye to the little guy who has stood by me for the last thirteen years, Diesel. For those of you who weren’t lucky enough to meet my little nugget, Diesel was a feisty Yorkshire Terrier (yorkie), weighing in at a whopping six and a half pounds. Diesel came into my life as a gift from my Dad at a time when I had no real direction. (And at a time during which I lived in a pet-free apartment complex.) Fortunately at this time (early 2006), I was working for my Dad and it was acceptable for Diesel to accompany me to “the office” every day – although I’m sure the health inspector would have said otherwise.

Enjoying margaritas on the Big Star patio

The point is Diesel came EVERYWHERE with me! He was my instant BFF, my roommate in countless apartments and condos throughout college, he moved to Florida with me when I decided to attend USF, moved back to Michigan when I decided I was over being a South Florida Bull, went along with me taking a chance on Chicago (which to both of our surprises meant having a chinchilla as a roommate), returned to Michigan yet again when I gave up on that, and then finally headed back to the Windy City with me, where he and I decided we’d let additional humans into our fold.

Preparing to smuggle Diesel onto the Red Line train

I guess now is the time to admit that from 2006, to when I returned to Chicago in 2015, I made a lot of bad decisions. I dated the wrong people, I dropped out of college for awhile, I shutout the people I loved, and worse. Yet through all of these terrible choices, D’s loyalty to me never faltered – I know this isn’t some revelation, I know dogs are a “(wo)man’s best friend,” but I just have to say this guy never judged me. He never made me feel guilty as I disappointed myself  time and time again, never failed to snuggle up on my lap no matter how long it had been since I had given him the time and attention he deserved. Simply put, he was always there and now he’s not – and that, well that is really f*cking hard.

he was, and will continue to be, a connector

Throughout the years my Dad and I have had a challenging relationship, and there were periods of time when we didn’t speak; It may seem strange, but through Diesel I felt as though I remained connected to him. Diesel was a constant reminder of good times with my Dad, and ultimately helped us repair our relationship.

My Dad with the girls and Diesel

Diesel not only helped me stay connected, he helped me to establish connections. One of the the most notable connections Diesel helped me make was with my now Father-in-Law. For the last decade plus he and I have had countless chats in which my “little pup” served as the icebreaker – who knew a six pound fluff ball was the best way to initiate communication with a grown man! In fact, I don’t think I would be off base in stating that Diesel helped me win over the entire Gall family.

  • making Shawn secure in his manhood
  • taking advantage of a Sunday funday
  • willing to take a photo even when it wasn’t his best hair day

he taught us what (we didn’t even know) we needed

I would like to say that I have always been a responsible person, but it was through becoming a dog mom that I first learned how to put another’s needs before my own wants, (i.e., skipping happy hour because my dog has been home alone since 9:00 a.m.). Diesel taught me to love even when I wanted to scream – hello puppy years! and let’s not forget, he was my introduction to “cry it out” after all. Because of Diesel, I am:

  • Fiercely loyal – don’t believe me, mess with my tribe.
  • Silly – I agree baby talk is ridiculous, but voices to perk up my pup – now I can get behind those.
  • Forgiving – diarrhea all over the dry clean only West Elm blanket, no big deal.
  • A fantastic swaddler of infants – if your dog is patient, practicing on him or her is much better preparation for a live baby than a doll.
  • Always down for a group halloween costume.
  • Working really hard to live in the moment.
  • he cleans up nicely
  • Dino-TIME
  • not many people can pull off bunny ears
  • our little superman
  • the original baby shark
  • every piglet needs her crew

The most wonderful gift Diesel ever gave to me was instilling the love of pets in my daughters. He immediately welcomed Palmer home from the hospital, and was a complete pro with babies when Kedzie joined us seventeen months later. The bond he established with them is unmistakable, and it breaks my heart these girls weren’t afforded more time with him.

  • helping us navigate tummy Tim
  • best buds
  • crashing her one year photo shoot
  • always patient
  • ALWAYS giving kisses
  • I am not exaggerating when I say, Kedzie’s face lit up like this every single time Diesel walked into the room – the bond these two shared was fascinating

the guilt of goodbye

Since last week, I have struggled with the possibility that I could have done more. I’ve struggled with the idea that introducing a puppy just one month ago had the opposite effect on his life than what we hoped for. We thought bringing Tula into our lives would pep him up, but now we were left wondering if it made him feel replaced. When I shared this with my mom yesterday, she gave me the hope that perhaps Diesel was holding on until we got Tula, in a selfless act to help us transition to life without him. Knowing Diesel, this was the case.

While it has always seemed he knew me better than I knew him, when I woke up Thursday morning I was certain something was wrong; I knew he was telling me it was his time, but I couldn’t accept it. I told Shawn to call the vet as I sat on the bathroom floor holding him like a baby. We postponed work and took him to the animal hospital hoping for a clear diagnosis. We were told they could do x-rays and ultrasounds, but that still wouldn’t guarantee us any answers. When presented with the facts, we made the decision to bring him home and administer antibiotics as a “band-aid” we hoped would provide him a little more time – time to make a few more memories with the girls.

Sadly, it seemed we were on borrowed time already. Diesel was sleeping on the floor of our bedroom when I woke to him seizing at one o’clock in the morning. I rushed him to the to the emergency MedVet, and I knew walking into that facility I wouldn’t be walking out with him. Admitting that right now, makes the pit in my stomach return. While it was unbearable for me at the time, I can only hope he found peace in knowing I was by his side until the very end.

attempting to adjust

The silence can be deafening. I’ve cleaned and stored his things, put away his leash, read all the pamphlets provided … and I still don’t feel any better. I still worry at night that I am going to roll over and hear him yelp when I don’t realize he has snuck his way into our bed. I dread the next time I’ll have to change the topic when Palmer asks me where he is – what is the right thing to tell an incredibly logical two-and-a-half year old anyway?

But no one I know has ever said owning a pet was easy, and now I have come to know first-hand the hardest part. For years the memories of loved ones who’ve passed have lived on through Diesel, and now Diesel will live on in the memories of all of us.

after all, he always had a way with making sure he wasn’t left behind ❤️

Fit4Mom – An Honest Review From A Second Time Mama

This past October, I was contacted about becoming a social media ambassador for Fit4Mom Chicago. Now as the title reads, this is an “honest review,” so I am inclined to tell you that I had never heard of Fit4Mom. However, the words “Stroller Strides” basically jumped off the page as I imagined myself pushing my littles alongside all those Mamas I would pass in front of the Diversey Driving Range.

You see, I have been living in Chicago for over five years now and in this time I have made three friends; two have since moved out of state. I have spent the majority of the last three years pregnant, nursing, and caring for two little girls (while maintaining a full-time job outside of the home), and it saddens me to say that I have failed miserably at making any “mom friends.” So as one may imagine, I was quick to reply to Caitlin (my Fit4Mom contact) to let her know I was definitely interested. I mean this was a no brainer, not only would I be able to work on my fitness, and meet new moms – I could bring my kids! Why is that a benefit you ask? Well it would mean that I would’t have to pay a sitter, or worse, negotiate with my husband to have this “me” time.

Unfortunately, the class times for Stroller Strides did not align with my daily work schedule. But, Caitlin was able to save the day with an offer to join the upcoming “Body Back Mini Session.” I wasn’t one hundred precent certain on what this would entail, but I was one hundred percent committed to finding out!

For those of you following along on Instagram, you know that I anxiously posted from the parking lot of the Drucker Center prior to attending my first class. Like I mentioned, I was itching to get out and socialize with other moms, but had failed miserably in my previous attempts. Couple this with the nerves I was feeling about the class in general and I was one key turn short of heading back home and hopping on my treadmill. My thoughts went something like this:

  • Would I be able to keep up?
  • Would I pee myself?
  • Would people be nice?
  • Let’s be honest, I am going to pee myself …
  • Will this even be a workout?
  • Will these black pants hide the pee?

You get the idea! (And as I have already stated, and reiterated, this is an honest review so I must tell you that “yes” would be an accurate response to all of the above questions.)

My first Saturday Morning Sweat Session with Fit4Mom

I will have to admit, walking into the Drucker Center for the first time had me a little confused. It felt more like I was entering a middle school gymnasium for my little sister’s basketball game than preparing for a workout. And I won’t lie, the bathrooms are just shy of terrible. But, as you can see above, the spaces in which the Body Back classes took place had a fabulous dance studio charm. The exposed brick, mirrored walls, and overall industrial feel ironically humanized the place. The parking situation is also something to take note of – easy in and out is not frequently found in the city!

While Fit4Mom has multiple locations throughout Chicago (and the U.S.), each class I attended took place at the Drucker Center and was led by either Carrie or Ivette – the positive energy these ladies brought to class week over week was unparalleled to anything I have ever experienced. The classes were a good size (between 6-12 mamas), and the HIIT style workouts made the hour pass by quickly. Every session essentially kicked off with an icebreaker in the form of a question of the day which initiated a dialogue amongst the moms that carried throughout the class. Finally, a class where I felt as thought I was amongst peers!

The instructors were dialed in on the needs of each attendee; continuously offering modifications and making notes of any ailments people were experiencing to help ensure everyone was getting the workout they needed! And let me just say, I was feeling these workouts for days after each class! Classes varied from circuits to fun holiday themes (e.g., “Planksgiving”, Christmas tree decorating).

I think we can say these aren’t the presents my daughters would have in mind!

Aside from creating a fun environment, the instructors were truly determined to help each of us in anyway they could. When Carrie noticed that I was consistently running out of the classroom to pee anytime we did jumping jacks, she quietly approached me and asked if it would be okay to share some pelvic floor specialist recommendations with me – she sent me a list that very night!

What I am trying to get at was not only was this a class for moms, it was a class led by moms. This wasn’t Orange Theory or Studio Three – this was a place where a group of moms could come together to support one another in their goal to better themselves. There was no judgement on where you were at in your journey, just appreciation that we all had a common goal of doing something to not only improve our physical health, but also our mental health.

It is often all too easy to forget that you were someone before you were someone’s mom; and all too often, if we can even remember that person, we don’t think she deserves any attention. That couldn’t be further from the truth! Fit4Mom was just what I needed to get out of my own head, and my own house, to work on me a couple hours a week.

Thank you FIT4MOM for sponsoring this post.

my first legitimate #tbt

With Love, The Christi’s

Let me preface this post by saying our style in this photo was on point for 1993. Also, how is this 25 years ago?!?

This photo – this is my mom, dad, older brother, and (toothless) me. I have spent a lot of my life trying to reconcile the “picture perfect” family you see here with who each of us is today. My parents divorced in 1996, just three short years after my mom had us all rocking black denim like we were submitting our picture to be featured in an upcoming Gap catalogue.

This photo – it forced me to admit that things were different for my family, but maybe, just maybe, they aren’t as different as it seemed like they were when I was living through it all.

Shortly after my parents divorced, my mom made what I am sure was an incredibly hard decision to sell our house. The house we grew up in was built by her parents and she had been living there since she was just 13. My brother felt completely betrayed by this decision, and as a result decided to go live with our dad. In turn, I felt betrayed by my brother as I navigated a new life on my own. In the beginning, I handled my cards pretty well – but as time went on I hardened.

A couple years after the divorce I learned that my mom was in a relationship with a woman. It was the nineties in Ortonville, MI (population 1,451); homosexuality was not something people were familiar with, let alone accepting of. This news solidified the fact that I wouldn’t be getting one of those fairy tale reconciliations where a year apart made my parents fall more in love than ever. I began to resent my mom because naturally, everything must have been her fault. I won’t even try to explain the entire situation, but time has afforded me the insight (and the wisdom) to realize the divorce was not a result of my mom’s choice to date a woman.

None of this changes the fact that kids are mean – they are VERY mean. I heard the whispers and I scrubbed the graffiti off of my locker and the road signs. I read the words that my “friends” exchanged behind my back. And then, I went on the offensive; if they were going to judge me for something out of my control – I would give them a reason to judge me that was within my control. I often question how things would have panned out for me had I grown up in the social media era; would it have been better or worse? Would the internet have connected me with kids going through the same struggle or would it have simply been another vehicle for people to alienate me.

To sum up where these four people are today in one short post would be impossible – but to be literal we are all currently in Fort Myer’s Beach, FL celebrating the holidays; we are just a bigger family than pictured in 1993. My mom went on to marry that woman (Eileen, or Grandma Awesome if you ask my oldest daughter), they have a beautiful daughter of their own, Jesse Kay (13), my dad (recently divorced from his second wife) made the drive down with the three of them, and my brother and his fiancé flew in from Oregon. I guess the point of this post is to simply force myself to let go of that “picture perfect” photo. To include the messiness of our family, not crop it out. Sometimes we are so busy capturing that one moment that we miss the entire day! I debated recreating the throwback photo while the four of us are together for the first time in nearly two years, but that just seemed silly when we could just expand the frame!

Happy Holidays, The Christis, Galls, and Kay McClennens

every blog starts with a post

When I was (much) younger I always thought my life was going to be legendary. I believed this so fiercely, it resulted in many sleepless nights as I steadily drafted my autobiography in my head. I believe it goes without saying, but if I was going to be famous, I would obviously need to publish a borderline scandalous tell-all novel, divulging every true (and embellished detail) of my life.

By the age of 18, I realized I had done absolutely nothing in my pursuit of stardom, which led me to question why I put so much stock in being famous in the first place. When I really drilled down on this lingering goal of mine, I realized that I had no actual desire to be famous; I didn’t have any musical or theatrical talents, I didn’t even want to win the Nobel peace prize, or top Forbes Magazine. So what was it you ask?

  • I had an unreasonable belief that if everyone didn’t remember me, my life was a waste, and
  • I thought being famous was synonymous with having an easy life.

Truth be told, I probably realized that those two reasons were ridiculous long before I gave up on the idea of my name in stars. I honestly don’t even know when I truly let go of this notion that my life would somehow just end up on the cover of People magazine. Maybe it was when Rick Porcello never acknowledged my, “You’re my tiger, I’ll be your cougar” sign …

But at some point I realized I was waiting for my life to start while it was passing me by. I was wasting time doing work I hated, dating guys I shouldn’t have, spending money on meaningless things, and why? Because no singular event had catapulted my life to the “easy street” I believed I was entitled to?

Let me clarify something here, my parents are not to blame for me believing I was entitled to anything. Both my mom and dad were raised by parents who ran small businesses, and because of this my work-ethic is pretty solid. But like every other millennial, I grew up with a never-ending stream of content that showed me “peers” who were living with way more than I was, all while putting in no effort.

Now all of this said, I still have a lot of thoughts rattling around in my head – and while they may not be autobiography worthy, “I was born on a rainy Monday morning …” they just might be of interest to someone out there. And that right there is the great thing about blogging – you just put it out there! People can read it if they want and if they prefer to pass, that’s fine too! 

So if you’re still reading along, welcome to my story …