I'm moving.

A Square View is no longer being updated. Please join me on my new Blog, Being Drizzed in Chocolate.

A Change of View

Dear Friends,
I had intended to return to blogging on A Square View at the beginning of the year. Life threw us a few detours those first weeks in January and it took some time to get settled into a routine again. I have been contemplating how to return after such a long absence. I wanted to organize this site a little better (clean up categories, delete some of my lamest entries) and continue on with A Square View. Instead, I have decided to retire this blog and launch a new blog on March 1. The set up is still in progress, but it will be slightly more focused.

Life perspective comes in all shapes. Say farewell to the "Square" one and join me after March 1. Please come back then to find a link to the new blog.

Thank you for reading A Square View.

Jen

'Tis the Season

A friend said I needed to update my blog because she was tired of seeing the “turd.” WHAT? How could that be, I thought. It’s so classy! But I suppose the novelty of a turd monster movie only lasts so long.

I know I haven’t been good about writing consistently. In the grand scheme of things, it hasn’t been that important to me. I mean, on the long list of things I haven’t really excelled at lately, sharing random and meaningless information (reference previous post) hasn’t been my highest goal.

There are several things I’ve been thinking about and hopefully I’ll be able to sit down at some point and assemble those thoughts in writing. I think my writing will change to some degree over the next few months. Motherhood has made me more reflective and I find myself desiring to be less cynical of the world around me. Some sense of sarcasm will always be in my pocket. It makes good humor. But, in the midst of road rage, criticisms, and complaints, there are beautiful moments in life I seldom savor. I often opt for the more humorous approach at the expense of sharing the meaningful side of life’s lessons. And if you visit this blog specifically for the turd movie type entries, don’t worry- I can’t be all sentimental and meaningful every time. I just need more balance.

It’s Christmas. Stop reading blogs. Turn off your computers. Turn off your TVs. Spend some quality time with the people in your life. Pick up the phone instead of sending an e-mail. Handwrite a note to someone you love. Be a friend. Help a stranger. Play with your kids. Appreciate your spouse. Talk. Laugh. Love. Thank God for all you have, then apologize for taking it for granted. Merry Christmas.

Just in case you're looking for something to watch this weekend!

I was browsing through Netflix this morning and came across this gem. It's available to watch instantly in case you're interested. You're welcome.

Movie Synopsis: Serial killer Jack Schmidt is a fugitive who has the police and FBI hot on his trail. After being cornered and wounded by law enforcement authorities, he falls into a sewage tunnel where the chemical company Dutech has also been dumping its toxic waste. The poisonous mixture of feces and chemicals mysteriously transforms Jack into a part-human, part-feces monster who sets out on a deadly rampage.

(And just in case you can't read the poster:  "It's not just a movie, it's a movement," and "My butt cheeks are clenched in anticipation of Popko and West's next film."  Mine too!)

Drew's News

I hope I'm back for good now. I need the therapy. The past month has been full and there are a few random entries in my pocket that I hope to pull out in the next few days. I've spent the past week working on a separate blog about Drew for our out-of-town family and friends. Since our families are in Minnesota and Mississippi, we needed a way for them to watch Drew grow. Not everyone has a Facebook account and I didn't want A Square View to become a baby blog, so I created Drew's News. If you're interested in seeing pictures and videos (coming soon) of the boy, you can find the blog link on my Facebook account. I'd prefer to keep my son's business among family and friends, so I won't link it here.

I'll be spending some time in therapy (aka blogging) this afternoon in order to share some random thoughts I've had in the past month about weight loss, motherhood, the homeless, etc. Thanks for being patient with me.

Diet Diary- Entry #8

Dear Diary,
I thought watching the Biggest Loser would motivate me toward my weight loss, but it’s only made me feel guilty about eating a cupcake while watching all those people work out so hard. Man, they are really working up a sweat. I broke a sweat today too. I forget to turn the air conditioner back down when we returned home from running errands and it was hot in this house. I mean the chocolate icing on the cupcakes was runny!

I broke out the Tae Bo DVD the other day, but only made it a third of the way through. That Billy Blanks is in good shape. Of course HE made it through the whole thing. I hope to make it even further when I do it again this week. I should probably increase my workouts, especially since I’ve recovered from those fifty crunches and twenty push ups I did all last week. And when I say “all last week,” I mean last Tuesday. Sigh. This fitness endeavor his harder than I thought.

For my friend Kristi

What stormtroopers do on their day off.

And this is why we don't go for walks in our neighborhood.

*found on the store around the corner from our house










Prostitutes, drug dealers, and loiterers beware!!

I'll take the vegetarian cookie, please!

Ummm, GROSS!
This is at the Subway down the street.
Who says punctuation and sentence structure aren't important?

Changing my ways before it's death by chocolate.

Cardboard flavored popcorn. Yum, yum. I wanted, of course, to buy the kind that was drenched in butter- that I would want to shovel in by the handfuls, but that would defeat my purpose in eating popcorn in the first place. I normally don’t eat popcorn. When I’m living without any sense of awareness for my health and well-being, I eat sugar. And if that were the case now, I’d be sitting here snacking on a king-sized Reese’s peanut butter cup. It’s a lot more fun to not care how few of my pants I can still wear. But since it’s slightly embarrassing to still be wearing maternity jeans when my baby is three months old, I’ve decided to make some changes in my eating habits.

For the record, I have lost 31 pounds since Drew was delivered. Also for the record, I had gained twice that in nine months. Let’s top that off with the 10 pounds I had gained on our honeymoon and that equals something similar to cottage cheese and marshmallows. I know what you’re thinking. How long was your honeymoon? Yeah, that would be a week. Yes, I said 10 pounds. That’s what happens when you go to an all-inclusive resort where there is an unlimited amount of food and drink at your disposal. Three of the resort restaurants offered nightly buffets. We didn’t always go to ALL three EVERY night. For the record.

So, Jon and I both decided we were going to work toward being healthier… after we got back from the Minnesota State Fair over Labor Day weekend. ‘Cause let’s be honest, I’m not going anywhere near the fruit stand at the Fair. Not unless it’s next to the funnel cake stand. In which case I may see the fruit stand more than once.

Now that we’ve eaten our way through the MN State Fair, we have committed ourselves to a healthier lifestyle. I’m not sure how cardboard popcorn fits into that category, other than it provides me with a snack that won’t directly attach itself to my hips… and it keeps me from gnawing my arm off while I think about soaking in a tub of chocolate and peanut butter. And just so I don’t cave into that glorious reality, I’m sharing my endeavor with you. Accountability is a b@#*^. I’ll be updating my progress on the side bar, along with periodic “Diet Diary” entries- although it’s changing my diet, not a diet.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to close my eyes and think of M&Ms while I chew on some more cardboard.

"My milkshake brings..." umm, a big headache.

Here’s a shocker: I’m going to talk about food. If you’ve been around me in the past… oh eleven months, you know it’s been a bit of an obsession- as evidenced by the pregnancy pounds I packed on. You’ll start seeing more entries about food because after this weekend I’m embarking on a serious weight loss campaign. Why put off till Tuesday what I could do today? It’s called the Minnesota State Fair. Corn Dogs. Funnel Cakes. Roasted Corn. Need I say more? I mean, what’s five more pounds in the grand scheme of things really? But, more about that later.

This entry is about one food item in particular: milkshakes. Did I miss something about milkshakes? I remember when you could use a pay phone for a dime (I should just say I remember pay phones at this point), when a bottled coke was 25 cents, and when you could drink milkshakes through a straw. Try that now and you’ll end up sucking your teeth down your throat. Sonic recently had a $2.99 burger and shake special that I took advantage of more than once. Cellulite be damned. That’s a bargain- I don’t care who you are. The last milkshake I got there was so thick that I turned my cup upside down and shook it. Not a drop fell. I’m not even sure there was milk in that thing. Or liquid of any kind. And they gave me a straw with it. A STRAW. Were they taunting me? Was that some kind of a cruel joke? I had to use the straw as a spoon. It took me two days to eat that thing.

Today, I got a milkshake from Jack in the Box. Shut up. I already know I’m fat. The girls at the window handed me a straw and asked if I needed a spoon. I declined.
“Have you ever had one before?” she asked. As if she couldn’t tell I’d been eating a lot of milkshakes! I said I had and she gave me this pitiful look as I drove away. Probably because she knew I was about to suck my brain into my stomach.

I don’t understand why milkshakes have become so menacing. I swear, I think you burn all the calories you’re eating by the time you work that hard to get it down. It’s a good thing I’m about to get skinny. Exercising is one thing, but drinking a milkshake is just too much work.

Making an Outhouse Even MORE Gross

Nothing I could write would do this justice.

A coma would be a welcome relief.

I know. In my last post I said I was going to start blogging regularly again. That was five weeks ago. The truth is- life with a new baby is harder than I thought it would be. I was full of aspirations of all the things I would accomplish once I was a stay-at-home mom. How much time could a newborn consume really? Sleep. Eat. Sleep. Eat. Finally, I was going to have time to do all of the things I couldn’t when I was working full-time. Wait. Let’s stop there. When I was working full-time. Like that was going to change once Drew was born. My job before now seems like an eight-year vacation.

There have been times when I thought I was tired. I thought I was tired during pregnancy. I’d fall asleep at my desk during the day and crash on the couch once I got home. THAT wasn’t tired. That was Tired giving me a little bear hug. Then Drew arrived and Tired bitch-slapped me in the face. Normally I would fight back, but I’ve spent the last two and half months crying in the corner from the red welt on my cheek.

Up until last week, Drew was waking every two hours during the night to be fed. It would take approximately 30 minutes to feed, burp, and change him before putting him back to sleep. I have never claimed to be a math genius, but let me do that equation for you. That leaves an hour and a half of sleep between feedings. Tired stood beside my bed like an abusive pimp. Now, the boy is sleeping in four-hour segments. That may not seem like much- especially when I keep reading on message boards about other babies his age who are sleeping 10 hours at a time- but when you’re so tired you wake up in bed looking for the baby you think you have in your arms and you can’t remember what you did with him, sleeping four hours feels like a mild coma.

All that to say- I am starting to adjust to doing life with a baby. He’s going to bed earlier and I’m finding myself with at least 2-3 hours of non-baby time each night. Granted, I spend most of it doing laundry, dishes, ironing, or scrubbing the bathroom floor, but I’m trying to discipline and balance my time so I can share all of my random babble and much a do about nothing with you, internet.

My goal this week is to post at least two entries in addition to this little update. We’re heading out to MN on Thursday, so that will be an accomplishment in a short week- unless I postdate some entries. But let’s not get crazy. One day at a time. Now, I have to run and jump in bed and savor the hour I have left before the boy should wake.

It's called LABOR for a reason.

I said it more than once during my pregnancy- I was going to “get it” during labor and delivery. And by “it” I meant whatever was difficult, challenging, and would even out the fact that I had such and easy pregnancy. I suppose there are those women who are lucky enough to have an easy pregnancy AND an easy delivery, but I kept my expectations in check. In pregnancy: no morning sickness- check; no indigestion- check; no constipation- check; no weird cravings like wanting to eat laundry detergent- check; and no other common pregnancy side-effects- check. I did get fat, but that’s what happens when you make snack cakes and ice cream two of your major food groups. Maybe I was comfort eating. The fears of having a difficult labor could only be calmed by the crème-filled, chocolate goodness of Ding Dongs. Apparently, I had a LOT of fears!

In typical Stadler fashion, the baby was late and after a week my doctor suggested we induce labor. At 41 weeks pregnant, fat, hot, and waddling, I agreed.

I had three hours of pitocin before they turned if off to let me sleep through the night. My “through the night” usually involves waking up around 9am, but apparently that’s hotel not hospital time. Their good night’s sleep ended at 5am when they cranked up the medication.

Around 11am, I succumbed to that bit of pain where your body is preparing to evict the person living inside there- whom you hope hasn’t gotten as fat as you have- and I asked for an epidural. “Are your legs feeling warm and tingly?” the nurse asked me for the next twenty minutes. “I’m sorry, I’m in LABOR! Did you just use the words ‘warm and tingly’? Because I forgot I even have legs due to the sledge hammer pounding my lower back.” Um yeah… that epidural didn’t work. Twenty minutes later I had a new epidural and a new attitude about labor. Not even a case of Ding Dongs could have made me that happy.

By 1pm I was nearly passing out in 10-second intervals as I held my breath to push. I’m not entirely positive because I’ve had some not-so-good hair days, but I’m pretty sure that was one of my least attractive moments in life. Thank God pain has the power to trump vanity.

An hour passed with little progress because not only had the baby not dropped, he was turned wrong. And just when I thought this was the “it” I was getting in labor, a tornado warning was issued for Davidson County. I’m not even kidding. Do you know what happens in a hospital when there’s a tornado warning? Patients have to move out into the hallway. That’s right. Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just in the middle of trying to PUSH A PERSON OUT MY ORRIFICE! The only positive thing I can say about the experience is that they decided to let me rest instead of push on public display. The whole rest period lasted about 30 minutes until, of course, the epidural started to wear off… ‘cause that’s what happens when you have to wait on a tornado. After a re-dose and another ten minutes or so, we got the “all clear” to return to the room and spend another 30 minutes of wasted effort, during which the doctor tried to manually turn the baby… with her HAND… on his HEAD! If there was any doubt before, I was positive this was the “IT” I was due. The amount of pain in this process was enough that I would have rather delivered a 14 lb baby, in a tornado, in front of everyone in the hospital, without an epidural. THAT would have been a treat in comparison.

The baby never dropped or turned, so I opted for a caesarian… just to top off the whole labor experience. I mean, what non-working epidural, ineffective pushing, tornado warning, baby-turning labor would be complete without a little surgery?

In the end, I got more than my share of “it” in labor and delivery. And it was totally worth it.

Andrew Jonathan Stadler
“Drew”
born Tuesday, June 16, 2009
7lbs 14oz
20 ¾ inches long

Blog Update

Due to the birth of our son and adjusting to life as a new mom, I have neglected my blog for the past month. My computer is currently not working (I'm borrowing Jon's when I can), but I hope to return to regular blog posts beginning next week. Please come back for the eventful story of our son's birth!!

My Husband- the TV Junkie

A conversation with Jon as we were discussing our pre-labor "to do" lists:

Me: You know you need to pack a bag for the hospital too.

Jon: I do?

Me: Yeah. You'll need a change of clothes and stuff. Although we'll only be 10 minutes from the house, so you could run home if you want to... but you probably won't want to leave...

Jon: Yeah, you're probably right.

Me: ... 'cause they have cable.

Jon: I'll put packing a bag on my "to do" list.

That's what I thought.

Packing Heat... sort of

Meet the "Grizzly".

Before you start thinking I’ve joined the NRA and installed a gun rack in the back window of my Mazda, it’s just a BB/pellet gun. But then again, it’s so much more than that. It’s the arsenal for my war with the stray dogs.

How heartless I must seem to all you dog lovers out there. Maybe I am, but I would argue it’s no different than spanking your children. There’s a momentary sting of unpleasantness, but the lessons of obedience and discipline are needed. Unless you’re someone who doesn’t believe in spanking your children- in which case you can call me heartless and I’ll call you wrong. Then we can move on with our lives.

The Grizzly is my last alternative to the stray dog problem. I’m hoping the dogs will soon make an association. They come into our yard. I bust a cap in their butts. It stings. They run. And hopefully it doesn’t take long for them to make the connection.

I borrowed the gun from my nephew. He tried to loan me a more powerful one that weighed about ten pounds. If I had stray moose in my yard it may have been an option, but I opted for the lightweight, less powerful one. I’m not completely heartless.

Now, I just need some ammo. A trip to Target and I’ll be armed for battle. Yes, I’ll be the VERY pregnant woman sitting on the back deck, with my feet propped up, drinking iced tea with a camo gun slung over my shoulder. You can take the girl out of Mississippi, but you can’t take the Mississippi out of the girl.

My Canine Gang War

What do you get when you live in the hood?
- A neighbor who knocks your peach tree down with a riding mower, hauls it off and never says anything about it? Yep.
- Your car ransacked in the middle of the night and several items stolen? Jon’s was.
- Low-rider drive-by with the bass thumping so loudly the whole house shakes? Oh, yeah.
- Frequent police visits to the house across the street? Of course.

And apparently, you also get packs of stray dogs that hang out in your backyard. It’s a dog gang really. There is clearly a leader who comes to bark at our neighbor’s dog that stays fenced in his yard. The other gang dogs just sit, lie, poop, bark, and hang out in our yard. It’s a nuisance that has driven me to anger many a morning at 1:00am.

This time of year, I like to sleep with the windows open. Not only do I enjoy the night air, but we can keep the house cool without running the AC. Until that incessant barking! I always try to sleep through it, but end up jumping out of bed, mumbling expletives under my breath and slamming the window shut.

Recently, I’ve noticed the dogs making themselves at home underneath our deck. Great. Next thing you know, they’ll be having gang initiations in our backyard. Not to mention one of them is VERY pregnant and this has to be stopped before a litter of puppies is delivered on our property.

Solutions?
1. Animal Control: Been there, done that. I called. They drove by. The dogs weren’t there and they moved on. Just another failure to capitalize on my tax dollars.
2.Yelling “GIT”? That’s my Mississippi coming out. I’ve yelled at them several times. They slowly walk away, mumbling death threats under their breaths and probably plotting what they’ll pee on next.
3. Throwing rocks. Oh, I’ve done that too (not at the pregnant dog). Only at nine months pregnant, my ability to twist and throw isn’t what it used to be. They are usually out of range before I can get down the deck steps, bend down and pick up rocks, catch my breath, then throw. It’s a futile attempt, really. And again, it’s probably just enough to piss them off. It won’t be long before I come out to find gang paw graffiti all over the garage doors.

So, I’m in a gang war with a pack of stray dogs. If I’m going to beat the “hood,” I’ll have to think “hood.” I’ll keep you posted.

Making Room for the Boy

I have several blog posts to catch up on and those thoughts, stories, etc. are coming soon. But, everyone keeps asking about the nursery. If you knew what this room looked like before then you know what a process it has been. Thank you Allison, Kristi, and Jon for helping me get it cleaned out and ready for its new purpose. We kept it simple… not too babyish, so it doesn’t have to be updated as he grows.

I should have gotten a closer shot of the quilt on the back of the rocker because it's so fun and creative and beautiful. Just like my sweet friend who made it! The moon on the wall above the rocker is one of my favorite finds. It’s battery operated with a remote control and it emits just enough light to give the room a soft glow at night. It will automatically cycle through the moon phases or you can change them manually to adjust the amount of light. After 30 minutes of inactivity, it shuts off. A great night light for $13- thanks Amazon! I made the rocket out of foam board and we’ll eventually throw up a few stars around it to take up some of the bare wall.

This is his changing station / bookshelf / toy storage / etc. I love multi-purpose furniture... and IKEA! The art is a canvas painting of the solar system with robot astronauts and aliens. Educational AND fun. I know… there’s a moon and rocket on one wall and the solar system on the other- and I said there wasn’t a theme. It just worked out that way.

This is one of my favorite things about the room. We still have a few to add, but he’ll be able to see the faces of his family members who live far away. Of course, we’ll have to update the photos periodically… along with moving them higher up on the wall when he’s able to stand and grab them. I don’t think it’s a good idea to have 8X10 wooden frames where they can be pulled down on his little head.

And thanks to Kristi again for the “Welcome Baby” banner she made for our baby shower. I found a place to display it. It will be a while before his new eyes can focus that far… or before he can read, but I love it.

We're looking forward to welcoming Baby Stadler into our lives, his family, and his room in our home.

The cookie question: to dunk or drown?

When I made that recent trip to Publix for Chips Ahoy, I apparently fascinated my co-worker with the way I eat cookies and milk. I never realized my way was so “bizarre”.
It’s a natural process for me. I just take some cookies and pile them in the bottom of a mug. Then I pour milk over the top of them, break them up, and eat them with a spoon.
I realize that some people like to dunk their cookies, but I don’t. Yes, the cookies eventually get soggy. Once the chunks are gone, I just simply drink the milk, which is then sweetened with cookie crumbs and chocolate chips. It’s not gross- stop thinking that. Most people drink the milk after they eat all the cereal. How is that different?

From the way my co-worker kept watching me in astonishment, you would have thought I was riding a unicycle with a monkey on my back while eating cookies through a straw and juggling three pints of milk. Which begs me to question: how do you eat cookies and milk? Are you a dunker, a drowner, or do you have another way? I can’t be the only cookie drowner out there!