Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Today I had a nervous break down. Not a bad one, but a little one for sure. As I stood there chopping, very haphazardly, 2 inches off the bottom of my hair I realized what my issue is. I am NOT Jesse. I can't be. I have an entirely different genetic make-up, and DNA sequence. I have different parents, lived a different life, in a different town, met different people, and have a different spirit. I can not be anything but me. . . And I'm a good person too. It's really hard to be compared to someone else. It's hard to feel that comparison when you meet up with others. It is discouraging and tiresome to feel the need to live up to that person's reputation and influence. To try and be for everyone else what that person is/was for them. I would LOVE to have been able to give my husband a son for His first child. God clearly had something else up His sleeve. He knew that this little girl NEEDED her daddy. He knew that there was only one man who could be the proper example of what type of man to be married to. So I didn't give my husband a son. I gave him a daughter who adores him. There's nothing wrong with me that I "produced" a girl instead of a boy. NOTHING. I am opinionated, and emotional. I am not a stoic, well behaved woman who can put emotions aside and remain calm when someone does something that hurts me. ( as is evident by my new hair cut.) I am NOT the bigger person. I am almost insanely protective of the people I love and consider of the highest importance to me. I will not give up what I value without a fight, and you'd better believe that if you hurt me I will not forget and I will be slow to warm the next time around. I have been known to "throw the book" at people who double cross me. I am not known for being kind and "understanding" in situations where I've been wronged. I don't have perfectly styled hair. I struggle to find a style that fits both my body, and the current trends. I don't really understand how to apply make-up outside of a stage performance. I'm not "poplar" and have very little fashion sense. But I can guarantee you that I will wear it until it's thread-bare just to get my moneys worth. I don't wear name brands because it's just not practical. I'd have to work 80 hours a week to be able to pay for that. And now with a child I don't have time for anything that say's "dry clean only"… are you kidding me? I am constantly covered in baby puke of some degree. . or drool. Either way, it must be baby friendly to be in my closet. Speaking of which; as this is my first child I'm stuck wearing the "pre-baby" clothes I had before. Yes, I am aware that I don't technically fit into them anymore. I was a little more concerned with diapers and wipes for my infant than my personal stylings. I'm not saying that there's a baby going without, but I"m just saying.. as for my husband… He had the choice to walk away. I may spend the rest of my life convincing some people that it wasn't a desperate "last ditch" engagement; that he actually thought it through and decided that this messed up, emotional Scotch/Irish Imp was the one he wanted to marry but he did. I spend day's trying to convince myself that that was the case. I promise I didn't hold a gun to his head, or threaten him, or even use "feminine wiles". I was myself. I even got angry and mouthed off to him once or twice just to make sure. I am me. I am the only person I can be, and trying to be another person has ended with a horrible hair cut, and a lot of tears ( not from the hair cut). Some other stuff too, but we won't go into that. I promise that I can be just as wonderful as she can be if given the chance. Different, but just as wonderful . . . in my own way.
Thursday, August 21, 2014
I was prepared for a lot of things about parenting. As I lay in the tub with my feet sitting next to the Baby Head-to-toe wash I recognize my life will never be the same. I knew that going in, and I was very much ok with it. I welcomed the new life I would be living. The heartache a child in rebellion would bring, the sleepless nights, the wet beds, the broken things, the macaroni art, the muddy foot prints on my newly mopped floors, and the egg and syrup smashed into my carpet. I knew it was coming and I was ready. What I was not prepared for was the isolation. The people in my life who would stop inviting me, stop coming over, stop associating because I now had a baby. I wasn't prepared to watch all my married, but childless friends move on without me simply because I couldn't keep up now that I had a slower piece of my life in tow. I was prepared for the way that the world around me would shift into things I couldn't participate in because I didn't want my child exposed to that. I wasn't prepared for the way that the charitable things I did before would have to be put on the shelf because every extra penny I had was going to diapers, wipes, or medical bills for a child I was now trying to raise without government hand-outs. I wasn't prepared for the lack of enthusiasm I felt suddenly embodied the world around me, and enveloped me. I was NOT prepared for the way that the lack of sleep would affect my health. I've never been as "healthy" as my siblings. I mean I was at one point. At one point I was the healthiest person in my family. Now I find myself struggling to keep my head above the flu/cold epidemic. I feel the twinge of a body that has had nutrients sucked out of it. I feel the disappointment of planning a good night out and then finding out that there's no one available to play in the way an introvert can. I was not ready for the way it would feel to not understand the way it would feel. I was not prepared for not having baby blues, but having total exhaustion and not wanting people to think you didn't want to play, but you're just too tired to even wash the dishes. I was NOT prepared for the way in which I would be so incredible unable to interact socially the way I used to. I was not prepared for all the emotional weirdness that comes from being just this TIRED! I was also not prepared for the fact that every part of my body hurts from trying to work, and care for an infant that is no longer little 7lb bundle of joy. I hurt in every joint, I can barely hold my baby without my arms hurting let alone perform massages for work at the depth needed for injury maintenance; I feel like I'm 90. The part of me that would love to spend a little money and time on myself knows that I'd better be putting that money in an account for emergency doctor visits, or college, or even just anything that involves my child. It has been a life altering event for sure. Most of the physical stuff I was prepared for. Most of the mental stuff I was prepared for. Unfortunately only some of the emotional stuff I was prepared for. I think I'd like to get back to being able to have friends, and eat real food. Maybe when she's 20.
Friday, July 25, 2014
I feel like I can no longer sit silently and not make my feelings clear. I will side with Israel. This is an unpopular statement, but I can not ignore the fact that Hamas is a terrorist organization. They may be the government of Palestine as of now, but they were a terrorist organization first. They are known for using children to hide behind so that if anyone retaliates they are accused of killing children. I can not ignore this fact about them. Nor can I deny Israel the right to fight for their own freedom and safety. Most of us would agree that if someone attack our family we would go after them. For both religious, genealogical, and deeply personal reasons I will stand by Israel. I will support them in their attempt to defend their way of life. I will not deny them the attempt to fight terror with the means at their disposal. I will not judge them. I will acknowledge the sadness of the collateral damage due to Hamas's need to use civilians as shields. I will walk this line very carefully and consistently check my facts. I will be aware of their movements and make my alliances accordingly. As it stands, I stand with Israel.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Some times there is nothing you can do but succumb to the hurt. I'll admit that I have let myself go since having my baby. It has been a full time job of simply trying to keep a miniature human being fed, clean, healthy, and mildly content. I'm also trying to keep a house clean, feed a dog and keep her active, feed a husband and provide clean/pressed work clothes, support coaching efforts, participate in my church, teach, be a sister, a child, and work enough to help with the bills. Along with this I keep hearing "Be sure to take care of yourself!"; usually said with a smile it's an absolute insult. Nothing makes me feel like more of a failure than having people point out that I have no social fulfillment, no physical fulfillment ( as in working out you perv's.), and no emotional fulfillment after a day of a screaming infant, irritated dog, and busy husband. I am alone in a house daily. I am TRYING to find time to do ANYthing for myself. You think I don't know that I'm falling apart? is it possible that it has escaped your reason that I don't actually enjoy looking like I just rolled out of a whore house?! I would absolutely LOVE to spend some time doing an intense gym work out, but if I DO have free time I get to spend it cleaning up the office so that I have a sanitary space for clients to be. If that gets done then I get to work on the rest of the house. Considering that I'm lucky if I can get a shower long enough to get soap on the "important" parts and get it washed off! I spend 90% of my shower holding an infant in a towel covered in soap. If I can get the soap rinsed off I feel like I had a good day. If I can get my hair washed it's even better! and that's just the shower. Imagine that kind of an event, and now think about trying to feed myself, or hydrate myself. . . No really, I'll give you a minute here to think about it. So, I've got an infant who is absolutely inconsolable if I don't have both hands touching her, and my undivided attention on her. Add to this a dog who NEEDS attention and activity as well. Heck I've spent almost 3 weeks composing just this far in the blog, and I type while my baby screams in her crib, and I sit on the toilet ( because some things should be done alone), and my dog stares at me from the door way. Please, tell me where in all of this I am supposed to go for a 30-40 minute run. Or have lunch with friends, or go bowling, or even just sit and not be screamed at or barked at. My mind wouldn't stop thinking about all the house chores, and laundry, and yard work that needs to get done anyway. My poor neighbors have been smelling the dog for almost 2 months because I haven't been able to get outside long enough to clean up after the dog. IF the grass survives the drought it'll still have to survive the suffocating dog mess out there. Sleep isn't even being mentioned because I don't know any parent who actually sleeps in the first year, good or impossible child. Do I have postpartum? According to the check-list at the doctor's office no. Would I say I'm feeling a little less happy, and far more sarcastically sadistic than normal? oh you better believe it. I laugh at my daughter when she cries. I'm pretty sure I'm making her a total psychopath by the way I just ignore that she's miserable so I can drink, or eat, or just give my arms and back a break. I've read all the studies, I've listened to all the experts, but what no one seems to realize when they say " be sure to make time for yourself" is that the only time I get is spend sleeping while I can. Which doesn't fill any of the other aspects of life. I watch from home as my friends live life! thank heavens for Facebook so I at least can see what is going on in their lives! I'm not saying I don't love my Daughter, I do. I love my daughter, my husband, and my dog. I am lonely, tired, frustrated, and aware that I appear to have "let myself go"; But please, before you try to tell me to find time for myself, or to take care of myself consider everything that is actually happening in my life. Consider that maybe, just maybe, there isn't time for me because all 24 of the hours in my day have been given to someone else.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
I like food. I like the fat, the gluten, the sugar, the carbs, the salts, the whole nine yards! I enjoy my fair share of burgers, and I don't shy away from ice cream. I'm not saying I'm addicted, or that I go over board. I just think that there is something to be said for food that tastes good. I see no problem in people wanting to eat healthier. I have no problem with my friends who are vegan, or my friends who are stout believers in the Atkins diet. I just think that we put WAY too much thought into the food we're eating. People are borderline obsessed with it! Not the good " oh my goodness this is delicious I've got to figure out how to make this!" kind of obsessed. I'm talking about the kind of obsession that takes the fun out of food. Yes, I know, it's rather incredible that there could be fun in food. Just trust me on this one;there really is. Most of us can agree that we enjoy eating over being hungry. We like the way it feels when our bellies are full. Some of us have adverse reactions to certain foods and feel "sluggish" or "icky" after. I am always amazed when I start talking about my favorite Hamburger joint that I get interrupted with an "oh yeah, I can't eat that stuff. I just feel so disgusting inside. I mean, how could you put that in your body?!". . . really? seriously? I'm raving about how much I LOVE the place and you're going to try to make me feel guilty? ( as a side note I've been known to respond to stuff like that with a " how could you NOT put this in your body?!!") I just think that people need to back the heck up on the fad train here and respect people's taste buds. I'm not asking you to 'actually' go try this place. I'm not telling you that you'll spend the rest of your life regretting having never been. Ok I might tell you that, but I don't care if you don't go. It's no flavor off my palette! I am a fan of eating what feels good. I will go for weeks in the summer eating nothing but vegetables. I will eat fatty fried foods for a few days in the winter when I'm feeling extra cold. Reality is that if you listen to your body you're usually going to be just fine. Most of the "health problems" related to food come from an obsession with denying what is needed for the body to function. there are certain amino acids you NEED, there are lipids, and carbohydrates you NEED. Then there is the rest of it. Learning to feel hungry for a food and recognize what you're NEEDING is part of being a balanced person. I'm aware that I don't NEED a burger every time I crave one. I'll be a hot mess if you tell me I shouldn't eat one ever again though. I'm using common sense with my bodies communication system to recognize that I need lipids. COMMON SENSE. I know it's incredibly mystical and all, but I swear it works. You don't even have to be a nutritionist, or have a Phd to know how it works. Seriously! People tell me that nothing curbs the appetite like a salty snack of fries. well, uhm… salted peanuts do. My mom used to eat those dry roasted almonds with light seasoning. Though believe me I will be the first to grab my car keys if we haven't had fries in a while and you make the suggestion.
Sunday, January 12, 2014
At some point in a pregnancy a woman has to admit she's fat. Not the " I'm so ugly, pitty me" fishing for compliments fat. Not the " Lord help me I can NOT put down the fork" fat. But you can't tell me your pre-pregnancy jeans still fit. I'll call you a liar to your face and not feel bad about it at all. Heck! You may NEVER get back into those size 5's. Though I'm not certain I'd want to. Yes I'm aware that the sex appeal of a woman 25lbs over her wedding weight doesn't exactly seem glamorous, or even sensible. Lets face facts; your fat. You're bigger than you would normally be and you're holding more than the 15lbs of baby and amniotic fluid in your middle. Honestly it's been the one thing I have NOT had to get used to. I am owning this fatness! bring it on! it takes a lot of insulation to keep a baby from freezing to death. Plus they don't actually start putting on their own fat until the last few months anyway. So SOMEone has to carry it for them. I'm not saying you can eat whatever you want, but you're body is going to store a little extra away to help you with the energy burn required to build a person, and to feed said person, and to keep you from going comatose for 40 weeks. plus food just tastes good. So yes, we get fat. It's the prefect kind of fat. The kind where you lose 15lbs in a matter of hours instead of weeks. The kind where you have something to show for it at the end of all of the nonsense. My husband lovingly tells me I'm beautiful. Will softly ask to touch the belly, and puts up with me wrenching his arm across the bed in the middle of the night to feel the baby kick. He's been a good sport about the fact that I am no longer that sultry vixen in a two-piece standing on the beach in San Diego, ca smiling at him diving for a ball in the sand. He's been a good sport about the fact that I've never been so unladylike in my life! He gives me a half smile when a burp accidentally escapes my lips during dinner conversation. Patiently endures the TMI moments at the doctors where we talk about constipation, hemorrhoids, and all other kinds of things men should NOT know about their women! Plus He's going to watch my abdominals squeeze me like a tube of toothpaste from head to toe; revealing a child He helped create. . . and everything else that comes out of a human body. What do I think of all this really? crap. Is there a way I can have Him in the room, but somehow skip the other bodily stuff that comes with a baby during birth? Can we just have the stork deliver this one? I am struggling to embrace the idea that so many of the things we, as women, attempt to keep back will suddenly; and unavoidably be exposed. I think that any man willing to watch his gracious beautiful bride under go one of the least flattering transformations possible and still love her. . . that man deserves respect! Any man who changes his mind after that clearly wasn't ready for the awesome that is woman. I'm sure the men in our lives find it almost as horrifying as we do to watch our girlish figures transform into a woman. the initial shock of it all is a lot to take in. What if we embrace those moments? What would happen if we walked out of the bedroom, looked at the people who love us and stated " Holy Moly I'm fat!". Would they think we were searching for praise, or would they understand we're just wrapping our mind around the new profile we're growing into? Could we say what we're thinking in an attempt to wrap our minds around it all, and have people recognize we're simply on a journey? I'd like to think we could. I've been asked how I'm feeling by almost everyone who see's me. At first I wondered if I looked sick. Then I realized that they were trying to help me come to grips with what was happening. I've even responded ( to the few I knew to be mothers) " I feel Fat.". They lovingly smile in an almost secret acknowledgement of what I'm experiencing and politely tell me it will get better. Not totally sure if it's patronizing, or genuine yet. I think that as women we need to accept what we are. Our genetics, our energy levels, our metabolism, our efforts, and our struggles. We need to enjoy the fact that our partner in crime is experiencing the same changes we are. We need to stop looking at what we HAD and start working on what we HAVE. So the cute belly-button is gone, and there are stretch marks or surgical scars. So the thin, streamlined hips are gone and we have more of a curve there than before. So we sag a little more up top because of the influx, and then recess of fluids in our bosom. Work with what you got! Stop buying tummy shirts, and start buying heels to show of those chiseled calf muscles you got! Stop trying to fit into skinny jeans and start wearing skirts that swish and sway drawing attention to that dairy-aire! Stop wearing flimsy shirts and start wearing an underwire bra with a well formed neckline in your tops! and most of all; get yourself some activity! get something that works out those area's you now need to highlight. I've had to ask help from siblings, or friends who have bodies different from mine. I've had to search for a new body type, and figure out how to work it, shape it, dress it, and love it. I am fat! you hear me?! I AM FAT!!! and I finally have some place to rest my laptop while I type this entry. ;)