Maintaining my milk supply is a struggle, but one that is manageable. I know that after a weekend of hard, long training or racing that I will see a drop in my supply in the days immediately following. The human body is amazing, but expecting it to produce the same amount of milk after a 6 hour bike ride, 4,000 yard swim, and 22 mile run (over the course of 2 days) is pushing it. But, there are a few steps that I take to immediately work on increasing my supply back up to where it should be.
Editor’s note: With the upcoming Super Bowl on everyone’s minds (my husband’s a 49ers fan), this post about assembling your own personal “dream team” caught my eye. Nothing gets us through the low points in life like knowing that there are people on our side, cheering us on. And new scientific research suggests that it’s not who or how many people are rooting for us, but something far more surprising: How supported you feel inside. –- Judy
Editor's Note: Hoarders conjure up images of houses packed with junk. This kind of hoarding, the compulsive hoarding of things, can be a sign of a serious mental illness. But hoarding can also be a metaphor for the ways we work against our own happiness. It can happen when we hold on to intangibles—for example, when we cling to our past, or stay in toxic relationships when we really should give them the heave-ho. Here, Colleen explains how this kind of hoarding can mess with your mental health, too. --Judy
I'm a fan of the annual physical. I recently had my blood work drawn and just received the results. Nothing brings me more joy than seeing I’m in the healthy range. Well, one thing bring me more joy -- comparing my numbers against… my numbers. Please tell me you have a folder with your health history, too?
I am pretty sure the only man who ever reads my blog is my Dad, (Well, my Rock n' Roll Buddy pops over now and then too, but I think he just checks out the photos and surmises what the post must surely be about and moves on...) so the rest of you can ignore this first paragraph...Dad, feel free to skip reading this post. It doesn't have any home projects or thrilling escapades, nor does it have any Great-Grand-baby photos. It's about menopause. There. So let's have a little girl-to-girl talk, shall we?...more
I've reached that stage of life when I really wish I had my mother to explain the Birds and the Bees to me. Only in my advanced age, it would be The Vultures and the Wasps. I have a vague recollection of my mother stumbling through menopause. But it was at the same time I was traversing the joys of teenage angst while teetering on platform shoes and at the same time wearing pants with an 18" circumference around the hem. Good times....more
This post is for the ladies. Gentlemen, please form a single file line and walk to the gym for a rousing presentation by the Phys. Ed. teachers on how to care for your prostate. ::Glances from side to side.:: Are they gone? Oh good! Let's talk shop, ladies. And by "shop" of course I mean vaginas. I was thirteen years old when I got my first period. The thing I remember most about it was that my mom and her best friend Monica poured Champagne for the three of us (just a sip for me) and then toasted me on becoming a woman....more
Finally: products offering practical relief for the “heat” of midlife. A note to men: If you want to retain your fantasy picture of women, read no farther, as it may bring up visuals you'd just as soon not have. We were sitting over Greek salads, we three women of a certain age and wondering why our mothers never had "the talk" with us. Oh, not the talk about puberty. We got that one, both in school and at home. The "Second Talk". The one about menopause....more
Recently Bitty and I met a woman in her 60s who said she was one of merely a few thousand who never had menopausal symptoms. Never a single hot flash. Nada. Zero. Zilch. We hated her. Bitty is in menopause, and I am peri-menopausal. We are two women living together and hot flashing with a fever meant for Beelzebub himself. In other words, we are in Hell. But aside from that rare braggart disclosing her lack of hot flashes, forgetfulness, and weight gain, how do women have this later in life “birds and bees” discussion?...more
It's June 27th, 1975. My 10th birthday. Will I get a fast growing hair Barbie? I rip through the Snoopy wrapping paper to discover ... Sweet Suzie's Starter Menstruation Kit. WTH? "Go ahead, honey, open it," says my mom, face shining beatifically as if I were the first female astronaut. (Perhaps foreshadowing Lisa Nowak wearing her premeditated murder diaper circa 2007). Then mom and I proceed to have the "First Talk" about when Flo comes to town....more