Yesterday, my husband and my two older children went to my brother in law's college graduation. It was about 4 hours away. This means that Matt drove 8 hours yesterday (the kids stayed up there with my mother and father in law and are returning today--they were too tired to make the trip last night). For some reason, Matt and I were both keyed up last night, and managed to stay awake until 2:00 am, just talking and laughing on the couch. Despite this, I woke up early. Matt and Alice (who hung out with me yesterday and went shopping and out to eat with my mom last night) are still asleep. I am typing this in order to keep myself from ordering stuff from the J Crew website.
Last night, my mom and I went shopping. My mom lives in Memphis, which a good 8-9 hour drive from where I live, so we don't see each other super often. The scary thing about my mom and I is that we are both incredibly Type A personalities, and we both like to be moving at all times. We bring this out in each other to an even higher degree. Put us together, and we are probably the most annoying people on the planet. We decided last night to drive the hour to the mall just to go to American Eagle. Why? Well, because our malls around here a c-r-a-p-p-y, and AE is about the best you can do. Also because that is one of three places that my mom can find clothes, which is pretty hilarious. My mom is a 55 year old woman. However, she is also a half marathoner and she wears a size 0, sometimes a 00. This, I have discovered, is a curse. For some reason, American Eagle stuff just fits her better than most, and luckily, she is a college professor who teaches a bunch of her classes online, and can get away with having little to no professional clothing. At any rate, we put Alice in the Maclaren and went to it.
The fun thing about shopping at American Eagle is the hilarious people you see in there. I saw a couple who were probably in their early to mid 30's. They were shopping with two daughters, probably 6-8 in age. The daughters were wearing matching halter dresses. The mom had bleached blonde hair, a ring of lipliner around her mouth and booty shorts. Very Warrant video girl (SWEET CHERRY PIE!). The dad was a bit pudgy and wearing a huge pair of madras print shorts with a bright yellow t-shirt and Timberland boots. With thick white socks. Hawt. They had a display of American Eagle brand cologne and he was spraying a bit from seemingly every bottle and then sniffing the air. And by "sniffing," I mean "snorting." Like a pig. It was entertaining to watch--in fact, I spent a great deal of time looking through the graphic tees (I haven't worn a graphic tee since I was in college) just to watch him.
Anyway, mom and I were gathering up some stuff to try on, and voila, I see a kid that attends the school where I teach. She is a sweet girl with nice parents and is just absolutley terrible at algebra. She sees me too, and kind of smiles. It is at this point that I feel incredibly old. Like picture Granny on The Beverly Hillbillies. That's what I felt like. I was holding Alice (who had picked that moment to gnaw on the bottom of her Hanna Andersson dress) and also a pair of cropped destroyed jeans. Classy. The kid comes over and talks to me and we have this sort of awkward conversation. I look down and she is holding the same pants. Nice. I decide to disappear into the dressing room with my 55 year old mother.
And here's the kicker--those pants fit me like a dream. I kinda love them. In fact, I bought them. They are sitting in a bag over here with a camisole and a v-neck t-shirt that I got for $10. So here's the conundrum...do I wear them to school? What if that kid bought the same ones? Things are pretty casual at the high school now as we near the end of the year, and all teachers have been wearing jeans all the time--not just on Friday. I would love to wear my new pants, and actually, it is kind of a have to thing since I currently own very few pants that fit correctly and I got ice cream on my white Old Navy Weekend jeans so they are at my grandmom's house where she is trying to get the stain out for me. Hmmm. This is a toughie. I have a feeling that I will probably wear them anyway, but if she has them on on the same day, I will quit my job and move to New Zealand to become a sheep farmer. I am just barely exaggerating.
I also bought a black dress at Target that is way cute, and a pair of khaki shorts, a tank top and a new cardigan. Can I just say that Target's Merona Collection has gotten exceedingly better over the last year? I think they are trying to copy J. Crew and it is awesome. Yes, there are definitely a few fails over there, but for cheap stuff, you really can't go wrong if you look and try on. Their t-shirts actually fit my mom and me, which is a minor miracle since I have huge boobs and she has no boobs. We are still trying to figure out how. And those suckers are $6! $6! That is the price of a Real Simple magazine and a coffee! Throw a cardigan over one of them and put it with jeans and you can look put together in little to no time and with little to no effort!
Which brings me to my next topic...I have developed a uniform. I seem to wear jeans (sometimes rolled to mid calf), a detailed cami/tank, and a cardigan everyday. I have a navy blue Jackie that gets the most play, but I also have a green Gap open front cardigan and a teal cardigan from the Crewlet that I also wear a good deal of the time. I am totally comfortable in this ensemble, and I think it always looks pretty good. I think I am making up for the fact that I have always loved cardigans, but they have not always loved me. Before I lost weight, I swear to God, I looked like my father every time I wore one. And that is not an insult to my dad. But let's just say that is not something I aspire to. My husband thinks I am insane with them because he points out that it is hot and we live in VA. Yeah, well, that means every building you go into is air conditioned to within an inch of its life. Yes, when I anticipate being outside I will wear shorts and a t-shirt. Hell, I have worked so much to lose weight that I am considering only wearing a bathing suit all summer, and probably will if I can lose about 5 more pounds. But the cardigan thing--you seriously can't beat it. I certainly hopes it looks as good as I think it does.
Well, I just heard the siren call of a freshly awake baby. Happy summer!
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
SAHM-ishness
My mother in law, who watches Alice while I am at work, and her sister and seemingly everyone in our family is sick. They have some awful fluish bug that causes high temps, throwing up, and other nasty stuff. Ick. So, since there is no one well enough to watch Alice, I have been at home with her the last couple of days. I really shouldn't admit to this, but these last two days are the only days that I have ever been at home alone with her all day since she was a newborn. Usually, the other two kids are here, or my husband is here, or she and I are going somewhere.
And I'll admit--I have absolutely loved being with her. She seems calmer with me here by herself, doing her own thing. We have played a lot and I have snuggled with her a lot. I don't think we've been more than a foot away from each other except when she is asleep. Very AP up in here right now. We took a bath together this morning, which is the first time we have done that. She loved it, but seemed very confused at the beginning. She especially loved the velcro rollers I had in my hair.
But...I am Type A, and I am running out of things to do. Yesterday I did all the laundry, proofread my mom's dissertation, washed the bedding, prepared a meal out of this month's Cooking Light and plated it so that it looked like the picture, and found my son's lost library book. When my husband got home, he asked why I hadn't called him much (he was on the road, and I think wanted some company). I told him it was because I was so busy, and he rolled his eyes. This morning I woke up, looked at the empty laundry basket, and thought...Now what? I got up and did some picking up and made my kid's lunches. Then I literally started looking for stuff to do. I decided to dress us both up today--yesterday Alice just bummed around in a BabyGap t-shirt with Babylegs during the first part of the day, and I just wore a J. Crew boyfriend tissue tee and an Old Navy running skort. Today, she has on a Gymboree romper with a crocheted neckline (so cute!) and I am wearing a white skirt and a ruffle neck t-shirt from Old Navy. I have decided that I will clean out the fridge today, but I can't do it while Alice is asleep because the kitchen is close to the bedroom, and I'm betting I'll make some noise with the dishes (I always do...). The lawn guy is supposed to be here soon, and I am tempted to go outside and clean out a flower bed before then. Hmmm. Or Alice and I could just go sit in our swing and watch him work, plantation style.
But for the time being, I am sitting here, updating a blog that no one reads, eating Triscuits with Laughing Cow cheese and online shopping. I have bought Alice three gently used Hanna Andersson rompers and a ruffled blouse from Spain. I have located a J. Crew cardigan that I missed out on last fall and am waiting for the Paypal address so I can buy it. Something tells me that my frugal husband would be in complete misery if I were a SAHM.
Some people are just not cut out to be SAHMs and I am one of them. I have thought about it a lot the last two days--Alice and I are truly having a great time together, and I wish we could do it everyday. I love her little routine, I love watching her learn and grow. But I think that I could easily drive myself crazy. I am going to be a SAHM this summer once school is out, but then I will have three kids to deal with, and I'll have the school's garden to work on (more on that later), so it will be a little different. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll be crazy then as well.
And ha! I just thought of something I can do. I am making chicken-feta tabbouleh for supper tonight, and I can go ahead and cook the chicken! This will keep me from stopping to buy a rotisserie chicken this afternoon, and just use up some stuff from the freezer. And this will offset some of the purchases I have made! Matt will be very proud of me.
So I am off to do that. And I might make some brownies. Or a loaf of bread. Or all three...
Someday, I am going to teach myself how to do nothing.
And I'll admit--I have absolutely loved being with her. She seems calmer with me here by herself, doing her own thing. We have played a lot and I have snuggled with her a lot. I don't think we've been more than a foot away from each other except when she is asleep. Very AP up in here right now. We took a bath together this morning, which is the first time we have done that. She loved it, but seemed very confused at the beginning. She especially loved the velcro rollers I had in my hair.
But...I am Type A, and I am running out of things to do. Yesterday I did all the laundry, proofread my mom's dissertation, washed the bedding, prepared a meal out of this month's Cooking Light and plated it so that it looked like the picture, and found my son's lost library book. When my husband got home, he asked why I hadn't called him much (he was on the road, and I think wanted some company). I told him it was because I was so busy, and he rolled his eyes. This morning I woke up, looked at the empty laundry basket, and thought...Now what? I got up and did some picking up and made my kid's lunches. Then I literally started looking for stuff to do. I decided to dress us both up today--yesterday Alice just bummed around in a BabyGap t-shirt with Babylegs during the first part of the day, and I just wore a J. Crew boyfriend tissue tee and an Old Navy running skort. Today, she has on a Gymboree romper with a crocheted neckline (so cute!) and I am wearing a white skirt and a ruffle neck t-shirt from Old Navy. I have decided that I will clean out the fridge today, but I can't do it while Alice is asleep because the kitchen is close to the bedroom, and I'm betting I'll make some noise with the dishes (I always do...). The lawn guy is supposed to be here soon, and I am tempted to go outside and clean out a flower bed before then. Hmmm. Or Alice and I could just go sit in our swing and watch him work, plantation style.
But for the time being, I am sitting here, updating a blog that no one reads, eating Triscuits with Laughing Cow cheese and online shopping. I have bought Alice three gently used Hanna Andersson rompers and a ruffled blouse from Spain. I have located a J. Crew cardigan that I missed out on last fall and am waiting for the Paypal address so I can buy it. Something tells me that my frugal husband would be in complete misery if I were a SAHM.
Some people are just not cut out to be SAHMs and I am one of them. I have thought about it a lot the last two days--Alice and I are truly having a great time together, and I wish we could do it everyday. I love her little routine, I love watching her learn and grow. But I think that I could easily drive myself crazy. I am going to be a SAHM this summer once school is out, but then I will have three kids to deal with, and I'll have the school's garden to work on (more on that later), so it will be a little different. Or maybe not. Maybe I'll be crazy then as well.
And ha! I just thought of something I can do. I am making chicken-feta tabbouleh for supper tonight, and I can go ahead and cook the chicken! This will keep me from stopping to buy a rotisserie chicken this afternoon, and just use up some stuff from the freezer. And this will offset some of the purchases I have made! Matt will be very proud of me.
So I am off to do that. And I might make some brownies. Or a loaf of bread. Or all three...
Someday, I am going to teach myself how to do nothing.
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Kids Say the Damnedest Things
On Sunday, we decided to go out for tacos and a bit of shopping. I wore this dress:
I got it at Old Navy for like $15 a while ago. It is cute and simple and easy to wear with sandals and simple jewelry. Plus, right now, I am really hurting for clothes. Last summer I was pregnant with Alice and the summer before that I was a good 3-4 sizes larger than I am now. So I literally have nothing in my summer wardrobe--even basics like tanks and t-shirts are miles too big. And the even worse thing is that I am still struggling to dress this new body. Styles that I used to rely on no longer flatter me and I am still a little unsure about the fit on other things. This makes ordering online a bit of a challenge. Plus, with having to buy everything from basics on up, I have to supplement with a lot of affordable, cheap things. This was a big reason why we were going out--my husband was tired of hearing me complain and was hauling me off to Target and Old Navy to shut me up.
Anyway, I was wearing the dress and thought I looked super cute. While we were getting our tacos, though, I started thinking that maybe the dress was a bit too short. I had worn it a couple of times and washed it, and I noticed that it was hard to bend without showing the goodies. So I was doing my best to crouch and move gracefully. However, as we were leaving and I was gathering the free taco coupons we had gotten for coming out on a Sunday, my son grabbed my butt. It was through my dress, but it scared me a bit. I yelped and took him outside and told him not to do that. We had quite a detailed conversation about it, but I didn't think a lot about it because, well, he is a 6 year old boy and they do weird things. Plus, Sam is going through a potty humor phase right now (which will probably last until he is 30), so anything about butts or anything like that is hi-freakin'-larious to him. So he got a lecture, but a bit of understanding on our part.
So we drove to Target and were getting out of the car, I was popping up Alice's stroller so that I could go into Old Navy and try stuff on (we usually use the Maya or the Oh Snap! in these circumstances, but with trying stuff on, I opted for the stroller) and Sam ran behind me and this time pulled up my dress! I yelped (louder this time) and told my husband what he had done. This time we talked to him a lot sterner. It was a bit hard because by this point, both he and Gabby were cracking up. They had been a bit wild all day, so, again, we were understanding, but told him he wouldn't be able to play his DS on the way home as a punishment. We walked on in to Target.
Sam waited until we got in the door and was standing in the middle of the store and then proceeded to grace the shoppers of Target with this gem:
"Mommy, you should really get some underwear that covers your butt cheeks. I have some, Gabby has some, Daddy has some, and Alice has some. You should get some too. Go to the mommy's underwear section and get some."
And it was at that moment that I realized that indeed, I was wearing a thong. If Sam had seen the matching bra that I was wearing with hopes that the kids would go to bed early that night, he would have had much more to say, I'm sure.
So yes, my son saw my thong underwear. I am starting to see why a lot of moms wear nothing but high waisted jeans, granny panties and their husband's t-shirts.
And yes, my spring/summer wardrobe budget has been further slashed because now I need to be saving up for his therapy bills. Awesome.
In addition, if you are interested, Old Navy has their Weekend Jeans on sale for $17 this week, which is like half price. I pink puffy heart these jeans--they are a boyfriend style, but actually fit. I tried Loft's boyfriend jeans, but a) they are $80 and b) they are freakin' huge. As in, I was wearing jeans that were two sizes smaller than my normal size, and they were still a bit loose and slouchy in a bad way. The 00's were even too big for my mom. So for $17 (reg price is $34), you can get the same look and it fits relatively TTS. Also, the ruffled jacket from Old Navy featured in this month's Real Simple is pretty cute on. I wore it yesterday and got a lot of comments. Just a thought if you are a thong-wearing-non-Mom-jeans-wearing-therapy-inducing Mama such as myself.
I got it at Old Navy for like $15 a while ago. It is cute and simple and easy to wear with sandals and simple jewelry. Plus, right now, I am really hurting for clothes. Last summer I was pregnant with Alice and the summer before that I was a good 3-4 sizes larger than I am now. So I literally have nothing in my summer wardrobe--even basics like tanks and t-shirts are miles too big. And the even worse thing is that I am still struggling to dress this new body. Styles that I used to rely on no longer flatter me and I am still a little unsure about the fit on other things. This makes ordering online a bit of a challenge. Plus, with having to buy everything from basics on up, I have to supplement with a lot of affordable, cheap things. This was a big reason why we were going out--my husband was tired of hearing me complain and was hauling me off to Target and Old Navy to shut me up.
Anyway, I was wearing the dress and thought I looked super cute. While we were getting our tacos, though, I started thinking that maybe the dress was a bit too short. I had worn it a couple of times and washed it, and I noticed that it was hard to bend without showing the goodies. So I was doing my best to crouch and move gracefully. However, as we were leaving and I was gathering the free taco coupons we had gotten for coming out on a Sunday, my son grabbed my butt. It was through my dress, but it scared me a bit. I yelped and took him outside and told him not to do that. We had quite a detailed conversation about it, but I didn't think a lot about it because, well, he is a 6 year old boy and they do weird things. Plus, Sam is going through a potty humor phase right now (which will probably last until he is 30), so anything about butts or anything like that is hi-freakin'-larious to him. So he got a lecture, but a bit of understanding on our part.
So we drove to Target and were getting out of the car, I was popping up Alice's stroller so that I could go into Old Navy and try stuff on (we usually use the Maya or the Oh Snap! in these circumstances, but with trying stuff on, I opted for the stroller) and Sam ran behind me and this time pulled up my dress! I yelped (louder this time) and told my husband what he had done. This time we talked to him a lot sterner. It was a bit hard because by this point, both he and Gabby were cracking up. They had been a bit wild all day, so, again, we were understanding, but told him he wouldn't be able to play his DS on the way home as a punishment. We walked on in to Target.
Sam waited until we got in the door and was standing in the middle of the store and then proceeded to grace the shoppers of Target with this gem:
"Mommy, you should really get some underwear that covers your butt cheeks. I have some, Gabby has some, Daddy has some, and Alice has some. You should get some too. Go to the mommy's underwear section and get some."
And it was at that moment that I realized that indeed, I was wearing a thong. If Sam had seen the matching bra that I was wearing with hopes that the kids would go to bed early that night, he would have had much more to say, I'm sure.
So yes, my son saw my thong underwear. I am starting to see why a lot of moms wear nothing but high waisted jeans, granny panties and their husband's t-shirts.
And yes, my spring/summer wardrobe budget has been further slashed because now I need to be saving up for his therapy bills. Awesome.
In addition, if you are interested, Old Navy has their Weekend Jeans on sale for $17 this week, which is like half price. I pink puffy heart these jeans--they are a boyfriend style, but actually fit. I tried Loft's boyfriend jeans, but a) they are $80 and b) they are freakin' huge. As in, I was wearing jeans that were two sizes smaller than my normal size, and they were still a bit loose and slouchy in a bad way. The 00's were even too big for my mom. So for $17 (reg price is $34), you can get the same look and it fits relatively TTS. Also, the ruffled jacket from Old Navy featured in this month's Real Simple is pretty cute on. I wore it yesterday and got a lot of comments. Just a thought if you are a thong-wearing-non-Mom-jeans-wearing-therapy-inducing Mama such as myself.
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Can You Be Both Fat and Happy?
Last weekend, my husband and I were lucky enough to get to spend a couple of uninhibited hours at the book store while my father took my two oldest children to a play. Alice decided be the best baby EVAH and sleep in the Maclaren, so we both went to the magazine section, got ourselves a huge stack, purchased a steaming cup of coffee and a muffin and went to it. I was intrigued by an article I read in Self magazine--an article where a woman talked about her struggle with weight gain while taking anti-depressants and whether the weight gain outweighed the benefits from actually taking the pills. In the end, she decides that yes, the 80 pounds she has gained makes her more unhappy than ever and decides to stop taking the pills (that she knows work, aside from the side effects) and go in search of another chemical combination to combat her depression.
I have thought about the article a lot over the past week, and even more when last night, I was enjoying myself on the computer and catching up on blogs that I haven't read in a while (once again, Alice was sleeping like a champ), and I read the blog of a woman who had just gotten breast reduction surgery and liposuction on her arms. I have read the blog only sporadically, but the news still surprised me greatly. This is a woman who lives very frugally (in fact, that is why I started reading her blog in the first place) and majored in women's studies in college--a feminist who often discussed body issues with eloquence and knowledge. The blogger was a solid size 12-14, which is around what I was before I lost weight. It amazed me that she would feel such a surgery is warranted and would spend the money on it. But, the more I thought about it, the more I respected her decision. I have often thought about such surgeries myself, and even now, post weight loss, would love to have liposuction on my stomach where there is still loose skin (yeah, gross, I know). The only thing that keeps me from it is the cost and an inability to stop my life long enough to actually get and recover from such a procedure--hell, I can barely find the time to update this blog once a month! As I finished reading, I realized that her decision to have the surgery was guided by wanting to be at her best, and yes, looking for that elusive happiness that we all yearn for.
All this has made me think about my own life. Am I really happier now that I have lost weight? Is it a bad reflection on me (and my vanity) if I am? The truth is, I am just at a better place in my life now in lots of ways--my family is complete, I have a job that does not pay well (at all) but is very, very rewarding both to me and my community and still affords me time to spend with my kids, my husband has a job that provides well and that he enjoys (most of the time!), we have a fun, loving marriage and he is still the only person that I would ever want to go on a long car ride with. Being smaller is really just the cherry on top of that sundae. And it is not that I was unhappy before. There were many times when I was bigger that I would catch glimpses of myself in a mirror and feel very pleased with myself and my look--I dressed well and did my best to flatter the extra poundage. But, looking back, I realize all the tiny, often subconscious, things that I did because of the weight. There were many times that I didn't participate in things because I felt too big or was afraid that I couldn't keep up becuase of the weight. Some of these tiny decisions affected my children, and that is not something that I am proud of. Plus, there were the many, many times I would catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror--at my double chin, or the extra rolls in my stomach, and be just totally grossed out by what I saw. No one should be grossed out by looking in the mirror.
I will say, relatedly, that I am much more aware of my body now, and maybe even a bit harder on myself. There are days now that I wake up and feel like an absolute whale--when the love handles that haven't totally disappeared yet seem huge and when my calves (which I have worked on incessantly, and ladies and gentleman, that shit ain't fun) seem like tree trunks. This is probably slightly insane, but I almost feel like I have a reverse body dysmorphia thing going on. When I was bigger, I would look at myself and think that I looked amazing, and then see pictures later and not even be able to recognize myself. Where did that double chin come from? Are my arms seriously ham hock-esque? Now that I am thinner, I get that feeling a lot, but it is more when I am just looking, not in pictures. Weird, huh? I was talking about it to my mom, and she said it is just because I am not used to myself yet. I think that is a fair assumption.
So can you be both fat and happy? The answer is, I'm not sure. For me, I don't think I could ever be fat again and be happy with myself. Mostly because, at this point, I know what kind of health issues could be related to the extra weight. That line is different for everybody though. Just as I don't think there are any hard and fast rules for fashion or raising your children, there are no guidelines for one's feelings about his or her weight. But it is interesting to think about.
I have thought about the article a lot over the past week, and even more when last night, I was enjoying myself on the computer and catching up on blogs that I haven't read in a while (once again, Alice was sleeping like a champ), and I read the blog of a woman who had just gotten breast reduction surgery and liposuction on her arms. I have read the blog only sporadically, but the news still surprised me greatly. This is a woman who lives very frugally (in fact, that is why I started reading her blog in the first place) and majored in women's studies in college--a feminist who often discussed body issues with eloquence and knowledge. The blogger was a solid size 12-14, which is around what I was before I lost weight. It amazed me that she would feel such a surgery is warranted and would spend the money on it. But, the more I thought about it, the more I respected her decision. I have often thought about such surgeries myself, and even now, post weight loss, would love to have liposuction on my stomach where there is still loose skin (yeah, gross, I know). The only thing that keeps me from it is the cost and an inability to stop my life long enough to actually get and recover from such a procedure--hell, I can barely find the time to update this blog once a month! As I finished reading, I realized that her decision to have the surgery was guided by wanting to be at her best, and yes, looking for that elusive happiness that we all yearn for.
All this has made me think about my own life. Am I really happier now that I have lost weight? Is it a bad reflection on me (and my vanity) if I am? The truth is, I am just at a better place in my life now in lots of ways--my family is complete, I have a job that does not pay well (at all) but is very, very rewarding both to me and my community and still affords me time to spend with my kids, my husband has a job that provides well and that he enjoys (most of the time!), we have a fun, loving marriage and he is still the only person that I would ever want to go on a long car ride with. Being smaller is really just the cherry on top of that sundae. And it is not that I was unhappy before. There were many times when I was bigger that I would catch glimpses of myself in a mirror and feel very pleased with myself and my look--I dressed well and did my best to flatter the extra poundage. But, looking back, I realize all the tiny, often subconscious, things that I did because of the weight. There were many times that I didn't participate in things because I felt too big or was afraid that I couldn't keep up becuase of the weight. Some of these tiny decisions affected my children, and that is not something that I am proud of. Plus, there were the many, many times I would catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror--at my double chin, or the extra rolls in my stomach, and be just totally grossed out by what I saw. No one should be grossed out by looking in the mirror.
I will say, relatedly, that I am much more aware of my body now, and maybe even a bit harder on myself. There are days now that I wake up and feel like an absolute whale--when the love handles that haven't totally disappeared yet seem huge and when my calves (which I have worked on incessantly, and ladies and gentleman, that shit ain't fun) seem like tree trunks. This is probably slightly insane, but I almost feel like I have a reverse body dysmorphia thing going on. When I was bigger, I would look at myself and think that I looked amazing, and then see pictures later and not even be able to recognize myself. Where did that double chin come from? Are my arms seriously ham hock-esque? Now that I am thinner, I get that feeling a lot, but it is more when I am just looking, not in pictures. Weird, huh? I was talking about it to my mom, and she said it is just because I am not used to myself yet. I think that is a fair assumption.
So can you be both fat and happy? The answer is, I'm not sure. For me, I don't think I could ever be fat again and be happy with myself. Mostly because, at this point, I know what kind of health issues could be related to the extra weight. That line is different for everybody though. Just as I don't think there are any hard and fast rules for fashion or raising your children, there are no guidelines for one's feelings about his or her weight. But it is interesting to think about.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Today
Today I had a biopsy done on a lump I found in my back a month or so back. Scary, yes, but it turned out to be just a benign mass that I will probably wait to have removed until this summer. After the biopsy, I managed to pass out cold on the doctor's office floor. I have no idea why. I didn't see the needle (I don't think it would have bothered me if I had though--going through natural childbirth with no drugs has totally ridded me of any fear of pain), I didn't lose any blood, nothing traumatic happened. I just fainted. One minute I was talking to the nurse about how chubby Alice is and the next moment I'm laying on the floor with a bunch of nurses around me and a bit of my J. Crew tiered camisole laying over my lips. I recovered quickly, but it was definitely odd.
Today I drove back from my appointment and took my son to karate. I love to watch Sam do karate--probably why I drive him an hour each way to go. Sometimes I think the class is more for me than for him, but it does him great good, and I am a firm believer in extracurricular activities for kids. And he likes it, and I can't help but think he is pretty good at it. He got a stripe on his belt and he smiled grandly--this big smile that explodes from him like fire. It was one of those moments where he looked at me and I wanted to freeze the moment in my head forever. I want to be able to call back that smile the day I see him graduate from college, the day he gets married, the day he wrecks his car, the day he gets his SAT score and is disappointed with it. That smile tells me just how amazing my son is.
Today my oldest daughter shaved her legs for the first time. Her legs have been rather hairy for a while now, but I have kind of let it go until I thought she was ready emotionally for it. She finally decided she was. It is going to be 70 degrees here tomorrow, and she wants to wear a new tiered skirt she has that has matching arm warmers. Yes, arm warmers. At any rate, I took her to the drugstore on the way home from her voice lesson (her grandmother takes her to singing while Sam does karate), and let her choose her own shaving gel. She picked Raspberry Rain, which seems fitting for some reason. I showed her how to do it when we got home, and then she stalked off to the bathroom to do it herself. She is so independant. But it paid off--she did a phenomenal job for it to be her first time and seemed pretty proud of herself, wearing monkey-printed boxer shorts as she walked around the house. I can't believe how old she is. Part of me wants her to be Alice's size again--new and fleshy and totally dependant. But the other part loves seeing her grow and change and become this cool little lady. I love her dreams, her laugh, the way she is simultaneously proud and embarassed of her intelligence.
Today my husband called me from the road and we talked like we were college again. My husband just accepted a big promotion that puts him on the road a lot--for instance, this week, he left Wednesday and comes back tomorrow (Friday). It has been harder than one would imagine. For instance, I woke up in the middle of the night last night and realized that I didn't know to turn out the lights in the house or to take off my glasses before I go to sleep--my husband always turns out the lights and removes the glasses after I am in bed. But tonight I came home and called him and we giggled on the phone over his hot dog lunch (since he is on the road a lot, he tries to eat at little mom and pop establishments and take pictures of them--some of these are pretty entertaining) and my passing out. It reminded me of all the time we have spent apart--his freshman year in college, the year he worked at the State Dept., the summers in Russia, my time at creative writing retreats. We have always dealt with these times well. Absence, in some ways, does make the heart grow fonder. And there is something about those fevered, giggling phone calls--full of stories and whispers, plans and excitement. It was the perfect ending to a day that was at times strange, at times fun, and just purely normal.
Today I drove back from my appointment and took my son to karate. I love to watch Sam do karate--probably why I drive him an hour each way to go. Sometimes I think the class is more for me than for him, but it does him great good, and I am a firm believer in extracurricular activities for kids. And he likes it, and I can't help but think he is pretty good at it. He got a stripe on his belt and he smiled grandly--this big smile that explodes from him like fire. It was one of those moments where he looked at me and I wanted to freeze the moment in my head forever. I want to be able to call back that smile the day I see him graduate from college, the day he gets married, the day he wrecks his car, the day he gets his SAT score and is disappointed with it. That smile tells me just how amazing my son is.
Today my oldest daughter shaved her legs for the first time. Her legs have been rather hairy for a while now, but I have kind of let it go until I thought she was ready emotionally for it. She finally decided she was. It is going to be 70 degrees here tomorrow, and she wants to wear a new tiered skirt she has that has matching arm warmers. Yes, arm warmers. At any rate, I took her to the drugstore on the way home from her voice lesson (her grandmother takes her to singing while Sam does karate), and let her choose her own shaving gel. She picked Raspberry Rain, which seems fitting for some reason. I showed her how to do it when we got home, and then she stalked off to the bathroom to do it herself. She is so independant. But it paid off--she did a phenomenal job for it to be her first time and seemed pretty proud of herself, wearing monkey-printed boxer shorts as she walked around the house. I can't believe how old she is. Part of me wants her to be Alice's size again--new and fleshy and totally dependant. But the other part loves seeing her grow and change and become this cool little lady. I love her dreams, her laugh, the way she is simultaneously proud and embarassed of her intelligence.
Today my husband called me from the road and we talked like we were college again. My husband just accepted a big promotion that puts him on the road a lot--for instance, this week, he left Wednesday and comes back tomorrow (Friday). It has been harder than one would imagine. For instance, I woke up in the middle of the night last night and realized that I didn't know to turn out the lights in the house or to take off my glasses before I go to sleep--my husband always turns out the lights and removes the glasses after I am in bed. But tonight I came home and called him and we giggled on the phone over his hot dog lunch (since he is on the road a lot, he tries to eat at little mom and pop establishments and take pictures of them--some of these are pretty entertaining) and my passing out. It reminded me of all the time we have spent apart--his freshman year in college, the year he worked at the State Dept., the summers in Russia, my time at creative writing retreats. We have always dealt with these times well. Absence, in some ways, does make the heart grow fonder. And there is something about those fevered, giggling phone calls--full of stories and whispers, plans and excitement. It was the perfect ending to a day that was at times strange, at times fun, and just purely normal.
Friday, March 5, 2010
How to Soothe a Teething, Fussy Baby in Three Easy Steps
1. Acquire a Maya wrap or comparable ring sling. Put baby in hip carry. Check the mirror to make sure that both of you look like as awesome as Naomi Watts and Liev Shrieber when they wear theirs. (Ok, yeah, nothing looks as awesome as Liev. Not even piles of Manolos and cupcakes. NOTHING.)
2. Turn on VH1's Greatest Songs of the 90's. Proceed to dance and sing along to every song that gets played. Enjoy the commentary, but mostly just sing and dance. Baby will laugh initially, and possibly squeal. Older children will shake their heads, promise to never, ever be like you, and then retreat.
3. Dance. Get a good hour of cardio. Don't even stop on commercials--just use that time to warble Wonderwall at the top of your lungs. Go and check mirror again. Baby will be asleep by the time Vanilla Ice rocks the mike like a vandal.
2. Turn on VH1's Greatest Songs of the 90's. Proceed to dance and sing along to every song that gets played. Enjoy the commentary, but mostly just sing and dance. Baby will laugh initially, and possibly squeal. Older children will shake their heads, promise to never, ever be like you, and then retreat.
3. Dance. Get a good hour of cardio. Don't even stop on commercials--just use that time to warble Wonderwall at the top of your lungs. Go and check mirror again. Baby will be asleep by the time Vanilla Ice rocks the mike like a vandal.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Mom on Mom Crime
I have been thinking about this post for a long time. However, our computers have been down, and blogger is blocked at work now (I KNOW!), so it is just now coming to fruition.
Recently (and this is probably because I am spending too much time looking at internet forums and blogs and such), I have noticed a whole lot of mom on mom crime. No, I haven't seen mom's going at each other with machetes. However, it is almost worse. Moms just go at each other with these silly passive aggressive arguments over parenting and lifestyle choices. Not breastfeeding (or stopping breastfeeding too early)? If I were you, I wouldn't do that. DON'T YOU WANT THE BEST FOR YOUR BABY? Have you ever used a disposable diaper on your child? If I were you, I wouldn't do that. YOU COULD GIVE YOUR CHILD A RASH/ASTHMA/DEATH. Did you give your child the flu vaccine? If I were you, I wouldn't do that. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS REPORT LINKING VACCINES TO AUTISM/SCURVY/DEATH? You get the idea.
Parenting choices are just that--choices. We all make different ones. And no one goes out of their way to make a bad one. They make the choice that is the best for them at the given time. The reasons they make the choices may not be relevant to everyone's life, but then again, not everyone else is making the decision. I'll just be honest and weigh in on the three above quandries: I breastfeed, and I'm keeping at it, but at one year, I'm out like shout. I absolutely hate to pump--hate the break it forces in my day. Because of this, I understand why anyone would stop early. Me? I'm just keeping at it because I am damn stubborn. And because I love my 6:00 feeding with Al. That one feeding keeps me going. Yes, I also cloth diaper. Have I ever used disposables? Sure. There is a package of them up under my bed that someone gave us. I love that it is there because I know that if I just don't get around to washing diapers when I should, or if something happens, it is right there. I would use one without hesitation. Oh, and yes, I vaccinated the HELL out of my kids and myself (although Al wasn't old enough at the time to get the flu vaccines). I'm sorry, but I have had the flu, and it sucks. I don't want my kids to get it, I don't want them to give it to their baby sister, and if there is something I can do to prevent that, I'm on board. I don't put a lot of trust into modern medicine--I'll just be honest about that--but this is one instance where my desires outweighed the distrust. And no, you can't send me a pamphlet about vaccines that will make me reconsider, thankyouverymuch.
Another place that this mom on mom stuff leaks in is on weight and body image. As you know if you read the sporadic postings on here, I am losing weight. I am now about 8 pounds over my original goal weight and about half way in to my goal size. It has been a hard ride, but totally worth it. However, I have been treated rudely, been told that I must be having an affair, and had it intimated that I must not be spending enough time with my kids if I am losing weight "so quickly." I even overheard someone saying that I must be "anorexic" because I didn't eat an extra slice of pizza at a birthday party the other night. For one thing, if that is the case, I'm a pretty shitty anorexic, and a fat one at that. But that is beside the point. It is so strange--if you are a big girl (which I have been for the better part of 8 years), you get treated shittily by the outside world--SA's won't help you when you shop, you get unwanted tables in restaurants, etc. etc. But when you lose the weight, thinking you will make everyone happy, people get bitchy and all of a sudden you find yourself the butt of a joke. ONCE AGAIN.
And why did I make the choice to lose weight? Was it because I wanted to look like Jessica Alba? Well, yes and no. I would be lying if I said that wasn't at least part of what motivates me. But mostly it is health related. Obesity (and the problems associated with it) run in my family. My father has been heavy my entire life, and recently underwent gastric bypass surgery because his blood pressure was sky high and he had other associated heart problems. He has also had seven knee surgeries because of his weight. His mother is so obese that she is no longer able to get out of a chair in her living room. My mother (who is very thin because she keeps these things under control) has high cholestrol and runs 6 miles a day so that she will not have to go on medication for it. To be honest, I'm scared shitless of having these kinds of things. I don't want to let something go to the point that there has to be some kind of medical intervention when I originally could have taken care of the problem by laying off the ice cream for a while. And now that I have three kids, it seems rather selfish to eat the way I want and lead an inactive lifestyle that not only could force me to not see them grow up, but also give them eating/lifestyle issues of their own.
I will not say that losing weight has been easy. It has not. I have stood in front of my TV and yelled curses at Jillian Michaels many a time. But. It is the best thing I have ever done for myself. In fact, I now live with regret that I allowed myself to be fat for so long and that I hid behind excuse after excuse when I could have done something about it. I spent my wedding fat, my honeymoon fat, I graduated from college fat. I told myself that I was a "fit" fat person, that I could dress in a way to "flaunt my curves (yeah right)", but I was just lying to myself, and that angers me. I am mostly just happy now that I see what a positive impact this has been on my life and that I know that this is a change I have to make every day for the rest of my life. Mostly because I will not go back to the way I was. Never.
And even as strongly as I feel about my own health and weight issues, I do not think they are right for everyone. I would never tell someone they should lose weight or eat healthier or exercise or any of that. Never. That is their decision--they know what their life is like, they know what issues they have to overcome and they sure as hell don't need me to tell them about it. If they ask me something about it, I would be happy to tell them my favorite workout dvd's, what the best kind of yogurt is (nonfat Greek, plain with frozen blueberries FTW), websites you can go to track calories for free. But I would never force my ideas on them. Moreover, I would never make comments about someone's weight, no matter where they fall. Just as it is not ok to call someone a "chunk" or a "fatty," it is also not ok to call someone a "skinny bitch" or "anorexic." It is also not ok to say that someone's body is not "real"--as in "I'm a size 16--the size of a real woman. That's not a real body over there." Seriously? Does anyone else see the idiocy in that statement? We all have REAL bodies--I am certainly not made of rainbows and kitten dreams, thank you. Lord.
All I'm saying is that fat or thin, zaftig or skinny, crunchy or mainstream, parent or child-free--we all deserve respect and a life free of passive aggressive commenting. If you ever start to say (or type) the words "If I were you...", I would encourage you to stop and think about it. If you were that person, you wouldn't have the same insights, no, but you would still be able to make a decision that best benefits you. Would it be the best decision? Maybe not. But you would make it, and learn, and isn't that what we are all aiming for? I certainly hope so.
Recently (and this is probably because I am spending too much time looking at internet forums and blogs and such), I have noticed a whole lot of mom on mom crime. No, I haven't seen mom's going at each other with machetes. However, it is almost worse. Moms just go at each other with these silly passive aggressive arguments over parenting and lifestyle choices. Not breastfeeding (or stopping breastfeeding too early)? If I were you, I wouldn't do that. DON'T YOU WANT THE BEST FOR YOUR BABY? Have you ever used a disposable diaper on your child? If I were you, I wouldn't do that. YOU COULD GIVE YOUR CHILD A RASH/ASTHMA/DEATH. Did you give your child the flu vaccine? If I were you, I wouldn't do that. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS REPORT LINKING VACCINES TO AUTISM/SCURVY/DEATH? You get the idea.
Parenting choices are just that--choices. We all make different ones. And no one goes out of their way to make a bad one. They make the choice that is the best for them at the given time. The reasons they make the choices may not be relevant to everyone's life, but then again, not everyone else is making the decision. I'll just be honest and weigh in on the three above quandries: I breastfeed, and I'm keeping at it, but at one year, I'm out like shout. I absolutely hate to pump--hate the break it forces in my day. Because of this, I understand why anyone would stop early. Me? I'm just keeping at it because I am damn stubborn. And because I love my 6:00 feeding with Al. That one feeding keeps me going. Yes, I also cloth diaper. Have I ever used disposables? Sure. There is a package of them up under my bed that someone gave us. I love that it is there because I know that if I just don't get around to washing diapers when I should, or if something happens, it is right there. I would use one without hesitation. Oh, and yes, I vaccinated the HELL out of my kids and myself (although Al wasn't old enough at the time to get the flu vaccines). I'm sorry, but I have had the flu, and it sucks. I don't want my kids to get it, I don't want them to give it to their baby sister, and if there is something I can do to prevent that, I'm on board. I don't put a lot of trust into modern medicine--I'll just be honest about that--but this is one instance where my desires outweighed the distrust. And no, you can't send me a pamphlet about vaccines that will make me reconsider, thankyouverymuch.
Another place that this mom on mom stuff leaks in is on weight and body image. As you know if you read the sporadic postings on here, I am losing weight. I am now about 8 pounds over my original goal weight and about half way in to my goal size. It has been a hard ride, but totally worth it. However, I have been treated rudely, been told that I must be having an affair, and had it intimated that I must not be spending enough time with my kids if I am losing weight "so quickly." I even overheard someone saying that I must be "anorexic" because I didn't eat an extra slice of pizza at a birthday party the other night. For one thing, if that is the case, I'm a pretty shitty anorexic, and a fat one at that. But that is beside the point. It is so strange--if you are a big girl (which I have been for the better part of 8 years), you get treated shittily by the outside world--SA's won't help you when you shop, you get unwanted tables in restaurants, etc. etc. But when you lose the weight, thinking you will make everyone happy, people get bitchy and all of a sudden you find yourself the butt of a joke. ONCE AGAIN.
And why did I make the choice to lose weight? Was it because I wanted to look like Jessica Alba? Well, yes and no. I would be lying if I said that wasn't at least part of what motivates me. But mostly it is health related. Obesity (and the problems associated with it) run in my family. My father has been heavy my entire life, and recently underwent gastric bypass surgery because his blood pressure was sky high and he had other associated heart problems. He has also had seven knee surgeries because of his weight. His mother is so obese that she is no longer able to get out of a chair in her living room. My mother (who is very thin because she keeps these things under control) has high cholestrol and runs 6 miles a day so that she will not have to go on medication for it. To be honest, I'm scared shitless of having these kinds of things. I don't want to let something go to the point that there has to be some kind of medical intervention when I originally could have taken care of the problem by laying off the ice cream for a while. And now that I have three kids, it seems rather selfish to eat the way I want and lead an inactive lifestyle that not only could force me to not see them grow up, but also give them eating/lifestyle issues of their own.
I will not say that losing weight has been easy. It has not. I have stood in front of my TV and yelled curses at Jillian Michaels many a time. But. It is the best thing I have ever done for myself. In fact, I now live with regret that I allowed myself to be fat for so long and that I hid behind excuse after excuse when I could have done something about it. I spent my wedding fat, my honeymoon fat, I graduated from college fat. I told myself that I was a "fit" fat person, that I could dress in a way to "flaunt my curves (yeah right)", but I was just lying to myself, and that angers me. I am mostly just happy now that I see what a positive impact this has been on my life and that I know that this is a change I have to make every day for the rest of my life. Mostly because I will not go back to the way I was. Never.
And even as strongly as I feel about my own health and weight issues, I do not think they are right for everyone. I would never tell someone they should lose weight or eat healthier or exercise or any of that. Never. That is their decision--they know what their life is like, they know what issues they have to overcome and they sure as hell don't need me to tell them about it. If they ask me something about it, I would be happy to tell them my favorite workout dvd's, what the best kind of yogurt is (nonfat Greek, plain with frozen blueberries FTW), websites you can go to track calories for free. But I would never force my ideas on them. Moreover, I would never make comments about someone's weight, no matter where they fall. Just as it is not ok to call someone a "chunk" or a "fatty," it is also not ok to call someone a "skinny bitch" or "anorexic." It is also not ok to say that someone's body is not "real"--as in "I'm a size 16--the size of a real woman. That's not a real body over there." Seriously? Does anyone else see the idiocy in that statement? We all have REAL bodies--I am certainly not made of rainbows and kitten dreams, thank you. Lord.
All I'm saying is that fat or thin, zaftig or skinny, crunchy or mainstream, parent or child-free--we all deserve respect and a life free of passive aggressive commenting. If you ever start to say (or type) the words "If I were you...", I would encourage you to stop and think about it. If you were that person, you wouldn't have the same insights, no, but you would still be able to make a decision that best benefits you. Would it be the best decision? Maybe not. But you would make it, and learn, and isn't that what we are all aiming for? I certainly hope so.
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