There was a time I had a knack for winning radio contests but, these days, I can't seem to win one even if you paid me. What's up with that?
For years, I have taken for granted that it would continue to be easy to win these random concert tickets, gift certificates and other stuff the radio stations offer. However, much like the NY Yankees taking for granted being in the post-season, my luck has seem to run out.
"Boo Hoo!" I hear you all saying. "Poor You! You won't be able to regale us with tales of winning a portable DVD player. Let me cry you a river." However, this loss of my radio contest winning "mojo" does disturb me A LOT. I worry that it will spill over to other parts of my life. Will I stop winning at card games? Will I stop winning the battle of the bulge? Is my "winning mojo" selectively gone JUST for radio contests or gone completely?
I am determined to break this losing streak. I am going to try and win ANY contest just to prove that my winning streak isn't over. Be it a meatball eating contest, a contest to win a free air freshner or just winning a battle of wills -- I am determined.
Wish me luck in bringing back the lucky streak!
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Where have you been?
I have been hearing that a lot lately. Dear husband and I have been going away on the weekends, visiting areas, to try and determine where to buy a home. This home buying thing is SUCH a HUGE commitment. Getting married was easy compared to this. At least husband and I dated for a while, got to know each other before we took the leap. Buying a home? Committing to a neighborhood? That's going to happen after only a couple of visits. Yikes!
How do I know the neighborhood will be safe five years from now? Will there be enough kids for Josh to play with in 10 years? Will dear husband and I find any friends in this new neighborhood that we like as much as the ones we already have? The fact that we will also have to pay over a hundred thousand dollars for the "privilege" of being homeowners also boggles the mind. I know people do this every day, but how do you commit to that kind of cash when you know you'd have to work at least 20 years to make the amount of money that the house is worth?
Well, that explains my absence from this blog too. All my free time has been invested in researching neighborhoods, researching the home buying process, researching how to make grow hair grow back after you've pulled it out due to frustration.
Hope you forgive me, again, for neglecting you guys. How's about this? When we finally DO buy a house, you're all invited over to hang out and chat. Just be aware there is a two drink minimum, if you do stop by. After all, that house isn't gonna pay for itself, we need to finance it somehow. :)
PS As for that last blog, you all had some cute guesses but the real answer was Will Blog When I Have The Time..little did I realize, at the time, how prophetic that comment would be.
How do I know the neighborhood will be safe five years from now? Will there be enough kids for Josh to play with in 10 years? Will dear husband and I find any friends in this new neighborhood that we like as much as the ones we already have? The fact that we will also have to pay over a hundred thousand dollars for the "privilege" of being homeowners also boggles the mind. I know people do this every day, but how do you commit to that kind of cash when you know you'd have to work at least 20 years to make the amount of money that the house is worth?
Well, that explains my absence from this blog too. All my free time has been invested in researching neighborhoods, researching the home buying process, researching how to make grow hair grow back after you've pulled it out due to frustration.
Hope you forgive me, again, for neglecting you guys. How's about this? When we finally DO buy a house, you're all invited over to hang out and chat. Just be aware there is a two drink minimum, if you do stop by. After all, that house isn't gonna pay for itself, we need to finance it somehow. :)
PS As for that last blog, you all had some cute guesses but the real answer was Will Blog When I Have The Time..little did I realize, at the time, how prophetic that comment would be.
Friday, August 22, 2008
WBWIHTT
When did people get too lazy to speak and write complete words? I think it has a lot to do with instant messaging, but abbreviations have become the norm in almost everything I see and do these days.
At work, my colleagues don't write thank you in their emails any more, they write "TY! :)" A friend was telling me a story and she remarked "He was soooooo funny I was totally LOLing at everything he said." Does it require so much more effort to actually say she was laughing out loud then saying LOL? Has our short attention span and desire to rush everything we do now affected our conversations too?
Then, there is the problem of figuring out what the heck someone means when they abbreviate something you haven't seen before. The first time I saw "TTYL!" it took me 5 minutes to figure out they meant "Talk to you later."
If I were to write I "ASTOTT" - Am So Tired Of This Trend, how long would it take you to figure out what I mean? When does an abbreviation become normally understood for public usage vs just plain annoying?
Well, I'm bored with this post and I'm in a rush to get back to work since my lunch break is about over, so -- TTYL!
(In case you were wondering about the funny title of this post...Try and guess what the letters are an abbreviation for and send me your guesses through the comment function. I'll post the guesses and answer the next time I post.)
At work, my colleagues don't write thank you in their emails any more, they write "TY! :)" A friend was telling me a story and she remarked "He was soooooo funny I was totally LOLing at everything he said." Does it require so much more effort to actually say she was laughing out loud then saying LOL? Has our short attention span and desire to rush everything we do now affected our conversations too?
Then, there is the problem of figuring out what the heck someone means when they abbreviate something you haven't seen before. The first time I saw "TTYL!" it took me 5 minutes to figure out they meant "Talk to you later."
If I were to write I "ASTOTT" - Am So Tired Of This Trend, how long would it take you to figure out what I mean? When does an abbreviation become normally understood for public usage vs just plain annoying?
Well, I'm bored with this post and I'm in a rush to get back to work since my lunch break is about over, so -- TTYL!
(In case you were wondering about the funny title of this post...Try and guess what the letters are an abbreviation for and send me your guesses through the comment function. I'll post the guesses and answer the next time I post.)
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Where did summer go?
As we are quickly approaching the end of another summer, were it not so hot, I wouldn't even know what season it was now. I used to love the summer. Over two months of down time, time to rejuvenate the spirit and the soul. Even if it just meant the luxury of sleeping late, I loved it. However, summer, as I knew it, hasn't existed since I graduated from college. Once I started working, my summers were over.
I think the longest vacation I have had since graduation has been a week. One week when I got married and then another week a year later for a delayed honeymoon. Now some of you will jump in here and say "Hey, didn't you have 9 weeks of maternity leave?" Really? Does that count? Do you think I got to sleep late on any of those 63 days I was not working? Did I get to veg in front of the TV all day? Nope.
I never really did anything exciting with my summers. No foreign travel, no pursuit of mastering a hobby. I took some mini trips but, looking back, I never took advantage of the time. In my mind, there was always next summer.
Friends tell me that my summers will make a return, though in abbreviated form, when Josh gets older and wants to go to Disney, Sesame Place, Great Adventure and thousands of other theme parks out there during his summer break. I disagree with them. It still won't be MY summer break. I don't think my summers, and the potential they hold, will return until Josh is grown and out of the home and dear husband and I are retired.
Of course, since retirement these days is somewhere around 80 years old, I may be too old flirt with the gondoliers in Venice and learn to play the drums. On the other hand, at that point all year long will be my summer break, so that will give me plenty of time to try to make it all a reality. Of course, if there is a good show on TV or it requires me getting up early, all bets are off. :)
I think the longest vacation I have had since graduation has been a week. One week when I got married and then another week a year later for a delayed honeymoon. Now some of you will jump in here and say "Hey, didn't you have 9 weeks of maternity leave?" Really? Does that count? Do you think I got to sleep late on any of those 63 days I was not working? Did I get to veg in front of the TV all day? Nope.
I never really did anything exciting with my summers. No foreign travel, no pursuit of mastering a hobby. I took some mini trips but, looking back, I never took advantage of the time. In my mind, there was always next summer.
Friends tell me that my summers will make a return, though in abbreviated form, when Josh gets older and wants to go to Disney, Sesame Place, Great Adventure and thousands of other theme parks out there during his summer break. I disagree with them. It still won't be MY summer break. I don't think my summers, and the potential they hold, will return until Josh is grown and out of the home and dear husband and I are retired.
Of course, since retirement these days is somewhere around 80 years old, I may be too old flirt with the gondoliers in Venice and learn to play the drums. On the other hand, at that point all year long will be my summer break, so that will give me plenty of time to try to make it all a reality. Of course, if there is a good show on TV or it requires me getting up early, all bets are off. :)
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
What’s wrong with being selfish?
Today, a colleague I met once, but converse with on the phone often, came into our office for a meeting and came to my cubicle to find me. She seemed genuinely thrilled to see me. She asked all about baby Josh and how I was transitioning back into the office. Then, at lunchtime, as I walked out of an alternate exit from my building, a security guard there said “We haven’t seen you in a while. Where have you been?” Last week, the woman who hands out the free paper at the train station told me it was great to see me again. In the week I have been back in the office, back to my old routine, I have been genuinely surprised at the warm reception I have received from the people I have interacted with on both a routine and intermittent basis. At the risk of sounding egotistical, I feel really popular.
However, I have got to give credit where credit is due. My parents, my dad in particular, have always been what you classify as “blue collar” workers. They struggle financially and my dad, having been a plumber, was always treated more like a machine than a person when he entered people’s homes. Due to his experiences, he instilled in me the proper respect for another human being, regardless of the job they hold or how much money they have in the bank.
I say hello to the people you rush by going to catch the train or to make it to your desk on time. I thank the cashiers at my local grocery store and wish them a good day. I always ask the customer service agents, that I call for inquiries, how their day is and do my best to illicit a smile from a person who I know probably deals with mostly irate individuals on a daily basis. I offer service men, like plumbers, something to eat or drink when they are in my home. I started doing it all because of my dad but, I have gotten so much more out of it then I give. In a world filled with millions of people, I feel like I matter. I feel more like a human being myself by treating other people with respect and courtesy.
There’s this great commercial where you see random acts of kindness leading to other random acts of kindness. It is simple gestures like a smile, picking up a dropped object for another person or just holding a door open that can change the demeanor of another individual. More importantly, I feel, that the kindness you show someone often benefits you the most by making you feel better about yourself. So, when you really think about it, my being nice to people is a really selfish act. My parents have always been the most selfish people I know and I can only hope that I can raise Josh to be an even more selfish human being then they taught me to be. So go ahead, and be a little selfish and teach your kids to do it too.
However, I have got to give credit where credit is due. My parents, my dad in particular, have always been what you classify as “blue collar” workers. They struggle financially and my dad, having been a plumber, was always treated more like a machine than a person when he entered people’s homes. Due to his experiences, he instilled in me the proper respect for another human being, regardless of the job they hold or how much money they have in the bank.
I say hello to the people you rush by going to catch the train or to make it to your desk on time. I thank the cashiers at my local grocery store and wish them a good day. I always ask the customer service agents, that I call for inquiries, how their day is and do my best to illicit a smile from a person who I know probably deals with mostly irate individuals on a daily basis. I offer service men, like plumbers, something to eat or drink when they are in my home. I started doing it all because of my dad but, I have gotten so much more out of it then I give. In a world filled with millions of people, I feel like I matter. I feel more like a human being myself by treating other people with respect and courtesy.
There’s this great commercial where you see random acts of kindness leading to other random acts of kindness. It is simple gestures like a smile, picking up a dropped object for another person or just holding a door open that can change the demeanor of another individual. More importantly, I feel, that the kindness you show someone often benefits you the most by making you feel better about yourself. So, when you really think about it, my being nice to people is a really selfish act. My parents have always been the most selfish people I know and I can only hope that I can raise Josh to be an even more selfish human being then they taught me to be. So go ahead, and be a little selfish and teach your kids to do it too.
Friday, August 8, 2008
Butting Heads
My son keeps using a wood toy we bought him to help him stand up. Inevitably, he loses his balance and hits his head against this toy and then starts crying. The solution to prevent this from happening was easy. I put the toy away until he is a little older and a little steadier on his feet. I wish the answer to life’s other problems, were that easy too.
It is my third day back in the office and I am miserable. I don’t get any Josh time in the morning anymore, because I am getting ready for work. By the time I got home at night the past two days, I got about 20 minutes of fun time with Josh before he started getting cranky because he needed to go to sleep. Last night when he fell asleep on me, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. I miss spending time with him.
This isn’t a new problem, I’ve blogged about it before, but what I once speculated about, is now a reality. I am extremely torn. I don’t want to stop working. From a financial perspective, it would just be too much of a burden. Also, to be honest, I don’t know if I could be with Josh 24/7 and be the loving mom he deserves. Having some “me” time is what makes me appreciate him more. However, if I wasn’t working, who could afford someone to watch him that would allow me to have that time to rejuvenate?
My husband keeps telling me that he will support any decision I make, stay home or keep working. All my working mom friends keep telling me that this will get easier. I keep being told to give this a chance that, with time, I will achieve a balance or at least a sense of peace with my decision. I hope they are right. I am agonizing over what the right solution for me is here. I keep butting heads with myself and boy is it making me cry. I should probably take a lesson from what I did for Josh’s problem and apply it to my own. Maybe I should shelve making the decision of whether to work or not to work until I’m a little steadier on my feet.
It is my third day back in the office and I am miserable. I don’t get any Josh time in the morning anymore, because I am getting ready for work. By the time I got home at night the past two days, I got about 20 minutes of fun time with Josh before he started getting cranky because he needed to go to sleep. Last night when he fell asleep on me, I couldn’t stop the tears from flowing. I miss spending time with him.
This isn’t a new problem, I’ve blogged about it before, but what I once speculated about, is now a reality. I am extremely torn. I don’t want to stop working. From a financial perspective, it would just be too much of a burden. Also, to be honest, I don’t know if I could be with Josh 24/7 and be the loving mom he deserves. Having some “me” time is what makes me appreciate him more. However, if I wasn’t working, who could afford someone to watch him that would allow me to have that time to rejuvenate?
My husband keeps telling me that he will support any decision I make, stay home or keep working. All my working mom friends keep telling me that this will get easier. I keep being told to give this a chance that, with time, I will achieve a balance or at least a sense of peace with my decision. I hope they are right. I am agonizing over what the right solution for me is here. I keep butting heads with myself and boy is it making me cry. I should probably take a lesson from what I did for Josh’s problem and apply it to my own. Maybe I should shelve making the decision of whether to work or not to work until I’m a little steadier on my feet.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
Seriously?
While in a store, I heard a commercial on the radio about a new teen movie that touts "love at the mall". Apparently, it is about an aspiring songwriter (girl) and aspiring rock star (guy). Their foe? The evil mall owner's daughter. Really? This movie got greenlighted? Granted, I am judging without seeing the movie, but does this sound like a riveting concept that is not to be missed? Then again, who am I to judge? Despite her immense popularity with the young women in America, I find Miley Cyrus to be the most annoying thing on either side of the Mississippi.
What is it with today's teens? Did we ever fall for something this stupid? I have got to review some of the "classics" I watched growing up. Will The Breakfast Club, St. Elmo's Fire and Sixteen Candles prove to be as ludicrous to my adult eyes as this "love at the mall" movie? I have to believe I had better taste as a teen. However, the fact that I went to a New Kids on the Block concert back then is what's making me think this trip down memory lane may not end that well.
By the way, in case you are dying to know, Donnie was my favorite -- I was always a sucker for the "bad boys." Besides, Jordan was way prettier than me and that just pissed me off.
What is it with today's teens? Did we ever fall for something this stupid? I have got to review some of the "classics" I watched growing up. Will The Breakfast Club, St. Elmo's Fire and Sixteen Candles prove to be as ludicrous to my adult eyes as this "love at the mall" movie? I have to believe I had better taste as a teen. However, the fact that I went to a New Kids on the Block concert back then is what's making me think this trip down memory lane may not end that well.
By the way, in case you are dying to know, Donnie was my favorite -- I was always a sucker for the "bad boys." Besides, Jordan was way prettier than me and that just pissed me off.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
You are the coupon queen
I am in LOVE with coupons. Barring winning the lottery or finding money on the street, there is no other way that I have found to get that same high feeling -- like I have accomplished something financially astounding-- other then that.
Now, most people feel good if they find a coupon in their weekly paper and use it to lower their grocery bill. They are amateurs. The professional coupon queen knows how to find the best prices and get her purchases to be little to no money expended at all. My proudest moment occurred when I lived in Los Angeles and, after using my coupons, I actually got money back!
It doesn't apply just to conventional stores. With Internet purchases I implore you "Look for coupon codes before you buy." You can get free shipping and major discounts. Using a retailer, who shall remain nameless, I purchased a cookbook I wanted at half the price with free shipping. I will also now give a shameless plug for my friend's website "pennies at a time" which gives you tons of coupon codes, so check it out if you plan to shop online. (It's listed on the right in my "favorite links"...Where do you think I found my coupon code for the cookbook to begin with? Yup, it was there.)
Why am I delirious about coupons today? Well, I just discovered two new great finds. One avenue to get coupons for the products you actually use? Contact the manufacturer! Most products have a 1-800 number or website on their packaging, so get in touch. Most of these companies will send you a coupon if you ask them to do so. (Some are meanies and don't and usually those are the ones that lose me as a customer.)
Next, Buy Buy Baby has done something that has made my love for them grow even deeper. First they accepted competitor's coupons, NOW they accept their parent company's coupons. Buy Buy Baby's parent company is Bed Bath and Beyond. Bed, Bath and Beyond the only store I have ever encountered that issues too many coupons for me to use :) Granted, there are restrictions on using these coupons, but, chances are, something you will need will be covered by these coupons.
While I have always found the act of searching for coupons to be a wonderful treasure hunt, with the added costs of feeding and clothing a growing family, it is now a necessity! When I lock eyes on a toilet paper coupon or one for a free container of Bacos, my heart races with joy. My husband never has to worry about me leaving him for another man, no man could ever compete with him. However, if a tall, good looking, free case of pampers coupon walks into my life... I would be tempted to stray. Once you get as hooked on the coupon high as I am, you'll understand. :)
Now, most people feel good if they find a coupon in their weekly paper and use it to lower their grocery bill. They are amateurs. The professional coupon queen knows how to find the best prices and get her purchases to be little to no money expended at all. My proudest moment occurred when I lived in Los Angeles and, after using my coupons, I actually got money back!
It doesn't apply just to conventional stores. With Internet purchases I implore you "Look for coupon codes before you buy." You can get free shipping and major discounts. Using a retailer, who shall remain nameless, I purchased a cookbook I wanted at half the price with free shipping. I will also now give a shameless plug for my friend's website "pennies at a time" which gives you tons of coupon codes, so check it out if you plan to shop online. (It's listed on the right in my "favorite links"...Where do you think I found my coupon code for the cookbook to begin with? Yup, it was there.)
Why am I delirious about coupons today? Well, I just discovered two new great finds. One avenue to get coupons for the products you actually use? Contact the manufacturer! Most products have a 1-800 number or website on their packaging, so get in touch. Most of these companies will send you a coupon if you ask them to do so. (Some are meanies and don't and usually those are the ones that lose me as a customer.)
Next, Buy Buy Baby has done something that has made my love for them grow even deeper. First they accepted competitor's coupons, NOW they accept their parent company's coupons. Buy Buy Baby's parent company is Bed Bath and Beyond. Bed, Bath and Beyond the only store I have ever encountered that issues too many coupons for me to use :) Granted, there are restrictions on using these coupons, but, chances are, something you will need will be covered by these coupons.
While I have always found the act of searching for coupons to be a wonderful treasure hunt, with the added costs of feeding and clothing a growing family, it is now a necessity! When I lock eyes on a toilet paper coupon or one for a free container of Bacos, my heart races with joy. My husband never has to worry about me leaving him for another man, no man could ever compete with him. However, if a tall, good looking, free case of pampers coupon walks into my life... I would be tempted to stray. Once you get as hooked on the coupon high as I am, you'll understand. :)
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Help me!
Help me is the universal cry for assistance. Sometimes people don’t actually say the words but you pick up on a vibe that you are needed. However, when the words are actually spoken, especially if said in fear, people should be driven to take action.
Last night, after putting Josh down to bed, I looked forward to unwinding for a few minutes before my nightly chores needed to be done. It was then that I heard my super’s voice outside our apartment window saying “help me, help me” tinged with fear. After that, I heard an unfamiliar male’s voice saying “give me your money” to which the super replied “I have no money.” The stranger then said “Where do you live?”
Terror gripped me. Was this some sordid joke or was there a mugging going on right outside the window where my son was sleeping? I then did something, I have never done before, I called 911.
The 911 operator was wonderful. She tried to calm me down and told me that I was doing the right thing by calling. I told her that I was unsure if this was a real crime or if I was misunderstanding the exchange. The operator said that we were better off safe then sorry and that she was sending the police.
The police arrived and I heard the superintendent asking what was wrong. They said they got a call from my apartment at which point I opened the door – to find out that it was, indeed, a horrible joke. The super was kidding around with a friend. Funny, right? Wrong.
The police left as soon as they realized it was a false alarm and some neighbors and the super all remarked to me that it was nice to know there was someone “guarding” the building. I felt like a fool.
I am not someone who calls the police on a whim. I truly heard fear in the super’s voice and thought that someone was trying to hurt him and may have had a weapon. The fact that this was apparently taking place right outside my son’s window heightened my desire to take action. However, the phrase “once bitten, twice shy” comes to mind now. Will I actually be available to help the next time someone really needs it? I am not so sure. Will I assume that the next call for help is a joke and disregard it?
I’m angry for being made to feel like an idiot. I am also upset at the super for causing me to be emotionally wrought unnecessarily. I am just hoping that I never am in the situation to hear the frightened cry of “help me” again, especially anytime soon. I am so doubtful now, that the next time, I just may decide that I don’t want to be made a fool of twice. The next time, a real victim may be ignored because of this time’s cry of “wolf”. If anyone can help me to get over these negative feelings, please do so. Oh, and I mean it when I cry out for help with this problem – no joke.
Last night, after putting Josh down to bed, I looked forward to unwinding for a few minutes before my nightly chores needed to be done. It was then that I heard my super’s voice outside our apartment window saying “help me, help me” tinged with fear. After that, I heard an unfamiliar male’s voice saying “give me your money” to which the super replied “I have no money.” The stranger then said “Where do you live?”
Terror gripped me. Was this some sordid joke or was there a mugging going on right outside the window where my son was sleeping? I then did something, I have never done before, I called 911.
The 911 operator was wonderful. She tried to calm me down and told me that I was doing the right thing by calling. I told her that I was unsure if this was a real crime or if I was misunderstanding the exchange. The operator said that we were better off safe then sorry and that she was sending the police.
The police arrived and I heard the superintendent asking what was wrong. They said they got a call from my apartment at which point I opened the door – to find out that it was, indeed, a horrible joke. The super was kidding around with a friend. Funny, right? Wrong.
The police left as soon as they realized it was a false alarm and some neighbors and the super all remarked to me that it was nice to know there was someone “guarding” the building. I felt like a fool.
I am not someone who calls the police on a whim. I truly heard fear in the super’s voice and thought that someone was trying to hurt him and may have had a weapon. The fact that this was apparently taking place right outside my son’s window heightened my desire to take action. However, the phrase “once bitten, twice shy” comes to mind now. Will I actually be available to help the next time someone really needs it? I am not so sure. Will I assume that the next call for help is a joke and disregard it?
I’m angry for being made to feel like an idiot. I am also upset at the super for causing me to be emotionally wrought unnecessarily. I am just hoping that I never am in the situation to hear the frightened cry of “help me” again, especially anytime soon. I am so doubtful now, that the next time, I just may decide that I don’t want to be made a fool of twice. The next time, a real victim may be ignored because of this time’s cry of “wolf”. If anyone can help me to get over these negative feelings, please do so. Oh, and I mean it when I cry out for help with this problem – no joke.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Baby Pee
A good friend of mine recently told me that she knew she was pregnant before she even took a test because she kept waking up in the middle of the night to pee. This is not something she routinely does and, in her recollection, the last time she did this was the first time she was pregnant. I am now paranoid about pee.
I am drinking a lot more water on Weight Watchers then I normally would. I make a huge effort to get in my 8 glasses a day plus, I am a diet soda junkie, so I drink that too. As a result, my visits to the ladies room have increased. How will I ever be able to tell the difference between normal pee and baby induced pee?
Now, some of you are thinking, well are you even trying to get pregnant? Well, apparently my answer to that question is irrelevant. I have heard way too many stories lately about people who got pregnant by “accident.” I don’t know how that happens, how is it even possible to get pregnant by “accident”? The last unplanned pregnancy I heard about had the husband remarking “You know that small percentage where birth control fails?” He looked at his wife and then at me “Meet the small percentage.”
Those of you who know me, know that I am a freak, a “Murphy’s law” kind of gal. If something unpredictable can happen – it will happen to me. I took pregnancy tests when I was still on birth control, before even trying for Josh, just in case dear husband and I were “the small percentage.” Normally, dear husband finds my quirkiness to be cute but when he found out how much those tests cost, he forbade me from taking them until we were actually trying AND even then he told me when I should try testing to keep me in check. (Not that I actually listened to him, I “snuck” tests all the time, but I did reduce the number I bought for fear of being caught.)
So, when dear husband heard the comment from my friend about the middle of the night urination being her clue to her new pregnancy and then saw my eyes pop open, he knew he was in for trouble. Countless glasses of water, thirty dollars and three tests later I am not pregnant but, I do have to pee again.
I am drinking a lot more water on Weight Watchers then I normally would. I make a huge effort to get in my 8 glasses a day plus, I am a diet soda junkie, so I drink that too. As a result, my visits to the ladies room have increased. How will I ever be able to tell the difference between normal pee and baby induced pee?
Now, some of you are thinking, well are you even trying to get pregnant? Well, apparently my answer to that question is irrelevant. I have heard way too many stories lately about people who got pregnant by “accident.” I don’t know how that happens, how is it even possible to get pregnant by “accident”? The last unplanned pregnancy I heard about had the husband remarking “You know that small percentage where birth control fails?” He looked at his wife and then at me “Meet the small percentage.”
Those of you who know me, know that I am a freak, a “Murphy’s law” kind of gal. If something unpredictable can happen – it will happen to me. I took pregnancy tests when I was still on birth control, before even trying for Josh, just in case dear husband and I were “the small percentage.” Normally, dear husband finds my quirkiness to be cute but when he found out how much those tests cost, he forbade me from taking them until we were actually trying AND even then he told me when I should try testing to keep me in check. (Not that I actually listened to him, I “snuck” tests all the time, but I did reduce the number I bought for fear of being caught.)
So, when dear husband heard the comment from my friend about the middle of the night urination being her clue to her new pregnancy and then saw my eyes pop open, he knew he was in for trouble. Countless glasses of water, thirty dollars and three tests later I am not pregnant but, I do have to pee again.
Monday, July 7, 2008
Mommy-Brain? Mamma Mia!
I loved the play Mamma Mia! I saw it years ago and I was singing and dancing in the aisles with my good friend. I loved the music so much, I bought the soundtrack. I could sing you any line and quote the dialogue included on the album, all with out breaking a sweat.
Mamma Mia is now coming to theatres and I am dying to go. I looked for my CD of the play, to sing along and get back in the mood, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. No problem, right? After all, I know every word by heart. Correction, I knew every word by heart. Now, when I start to sing some of the songs, even my favorites, I draw a blank. I remember a chorus here and there but I couldn’t sing the complete song without help even if you paid me. It’s scary because my ability to remember song lyrics and inane pop culture is something I never questioned. However, these days there are numerous times where lyrics, actors names, titles of movies all escape me.
I have been told that this is the “infamous” Mommy-brain. Apparently, the act of being pregnant and having a child makes you lose memory cells. I am not sure if this is scientifically proven, but it is everyone’s reason for my memory lapses. I start a sentence only to forget what I was planning to say – Mommy brain. I look at a picture of my sister-in-law and her son and completely blank on their first names – Mommy brain. I put up a pot of eggs to boil and don’t remember until I smell something burning -Mommy brain.
Mamma Mia! Is there a cure for this mommy brain or is it a terminal disease? I am a Super Trouper, and I Have a Dream. I’m sending out and S.O.S., my Chiquitita. I am hopeful that someone out there can Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! a cure for my Mommy Brain. Then when someone asks Josh, Does Your Mother Know, I can proudly scream I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do! Let’s just hope the cure doesn’t cost too much Money, Money, Money.
Mamma Mia is now coming to theatres and I am dying to go. I looked for my CD of the play, to sing along and get back in the mood, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. No problem, right? After all, I know every word by heart. Correction, I knew every word by heart. Now, when I start to sing some of the songs, even my favorites, I draw a blank. I remember a chorus here and there but I couldn’t sing the complete song without help even if you paid me. It’s scary because my ability to remember song lyrics and inane pop culture is something I never questioned. However, these days there are numerous times where lyrics, actors names, titles of movies all escape me.
I have been told that this is the “infamous” Mommy-brain. Apparently, the act of being pregnant and having a child makes you lose memory cells. I am not sure if this is scientifically proven, but it is everyone’s reason for my memory lapses. I start a sentence only to forget what I was planning to say – Mommy brain. I look at a picture of my sister-in-law and her son and completely blank on their first names – Mommy brain. I put up a pot of eggs to boil and don’t remember until I smell something burning -Mommy brain.
Mamma Mia! Is there a cure for this mommy brain or is it a terminal disease? I am a Super Trouper, and I Have a Dream. I’m sending out and S.O.S., my Chiquitita. I am hopeful that someone out there can Gimme! Gimme! Gimme! a cure for my Mommy Brain. Then when someone asks Josh, Does Your Mother Know, I can proudly scream I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do! Let’s just hope the cure doesn’t cost too much Money, Money, Money.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Gripe Water
It’s been a while and I guess you are wondering why I have abandoned the blog. Fear not. I have not forgotten you -- my faithful audience of 5 readers! It’s just been hectic with work, baby Josh and a scale that just won’t move down. So, today, you are being treated to my gripe session.
First, work sucks! I have never been this stressed before in my entire career. A couple of people retired and I inherited their workload. Did this result in a pay increase? No. More time off? Nope, not that either. Basically, what I was told was “these are your new responsibilities, love them or feel free to quit any time you want.” I work for a company that is willing to create chaos by letting an employee quit, rather then give the notion that they are giving up any control/power. They are willing to “cut off their nose to spite their face” as my mom always used to say.
As for Josh, where to begin? The boy is a trip! I adore him but he is going through a stage where he keeps flipping onto his stomach every half hour at night, and then he is unable to return to his back. This generally starts about 9PM every night. Whenever he flips himself, the result is massive screams and cries. By the 6th time he does this, he has worked himself into such a tizzy that he is up for an hour, inconsolable until he passes out from exhaustion of crying. That behavior reminds me of how I acted after a really bad break-up of a relationship.
Despite my desire to nap at lunch, to make up for the loss of sleep – I am not doing that. Instead, I am exercising like a mad woman. I am counting points religiously. I am drinking my water, following my healthy guidelines but apparently, someone forgot to tell that to my scale. I have been told it is retained water, additional muscle, scale error, you name it but, another 4 weeks have passed with no weight movement down, and this plateau is driving me nuts.
Between the stresses of work, the sleep deprivation and the exercise hangover, it is a wonder I have the energy to construct a sentence these days. I was so tired, at one point, I called my husband mommy when we were having an argument. Exhaustion or Freudian slip?
I thought a good way to tackle some stress would be to get rid of some of the clutter in my life. Maybe things would look and feel better in a neater apartment. In the course of cleaning, I discovered items I didn’t even know I owned. A coffee grinder I thought I had returned, more bottles for Josh and some gripe water we bought him that we never used. Now, I know that Gripe Water is supposed to be used to treat colic but do you think if I drank some of it, it would cure me of the gripes I have? It’s worth a shot right? How many WW points do you think is in a serving? Gotta watch those points or the griping will never stop!
First, work sucks! I have never been this stressed before in my entire career. A couple of people retired and I inherited their workload. Did this result in a pay increase? No. More time off? Nope, not that either. Basically, what I was told was “these are your new responsibilities, love them or feel free to quit any time you want.” I work for a company that is willing to create chaos by letting an employee quit, rather then give the notion that they are giving up any control/power. They are willing to “cut off their nose to spite their face” as my mom always used to say.
As for Josh, where to begin? The boy is a trip! I adore him but he is going through a stage where he keeps flipping onto his stomach every half hour at night, and then he is unable to return to his back. This generally starts about 9PM every night. Whenever he flips himself, the result is massive screams and cries. By the 6th time he does this, he has worked himself into such a tizzy that he is up for an hour, inconsolable until he passes out from exhaustion of crying. That behavior reminds me of how I acted after a really bad break-up of a relationship.
Despite my desire to nap at lunch, to make up for the loss of sleep – I am not doing that. Instead, I am exercising like a mad woman. I am counting points religiously. I am drinking my water, following my healthy guidelines but apparently, someone forgot to tell that to my scale. I have been told it is retained water, additional muscle, scale error, you name it but, another 4 weeks have passed with no weight movement down, and this plateau is driving me nuts.
Between the stresses of work, the sleep deprivation and the exercise hangover, it is a wonder I have the energy to construct a sentence these days. I was so tired, at one point, I called my husband mommy when we were having an argument. Exhaustion or Freudian slip?
I thought a good way to tackle some stress would be to get rid of some of the clutter in my life. Maybe things would look and feel better in a neater apartment. In the course of cleaning, I discovered items I didn’t even know I owned. A coffee grinder I thought I had returned, more bottles for Josh and some gripe water we bought him that we never used. Now, I know that Gripe Water is supposed to be used to treat colic but do you think if I drank some of it, it would cure me of the gripes I have? It’s worth a shot right? How many WW points do you think is in a serving? Gotta watch those points or the griping will never stop!
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
No matter what you do, it will never be enough
I have an awesome husband. He works hard, he loves me and he adores our son. When I hear about other people’s horror stories of how their husbands behave, I consider myself a very lucky woman. However, despite the fact that I am blessed with a great and helpful husband doesn’t change the fact that he will never be able to do enough for me anymore. You see, there is no way that my husband can ever become the mommy.
When Josh gets sick and needs to be taken to the doctor, mommy takes off from work to go there. When Josh wakes up crying and needs to be consoled, mommy has to groggily get out of bed and comfort him back to sleep. Mommy packs her clothes and Josh’s clothes when we have to go away for a couple of hours or for a couple of days. Daddy gets to do the fun stuff. Daddy swings him up in the air, tickles him and makes him laugh, mommy changes poopie diapers.
I am utterly exhausted with being the mommy. I need a vacation from being the mommy. I want to have the energy to just enjoy my husband and my son but, the past couple of days, I just don’t. Husband is out of town on a business trip and so now, even the things he does to help, fall on my shoulders. I am in awe of single moms who do this every day. Faced with having to do it alone for 2 more days is making me anxious just thinking about it.
I dreamed of motherhood for many years, romanticized it. I never realized how much work it is! The spitting up, the crying, the gross bodily functions and that was just coming from me right after giving birth! Josh is generally affable, but he is still a baby. He cries, he gets fussy, he gets bored, he gets angry, sometimes all at once. Since he can’t tell me what’s wrong, I have to guess. Diaper clean? Check. Hungry? Nope. Tired? Ahhh, that’s it. Insert pacifier, soothe baby and hope he falls out soon.
There are times I think, can I do this again? I love Josh, but I hate being exhausted. I hate snapping at my husband and making him feel small and insignificant because I am frustrated and overwhelmed. I miss the days of being so affectionate with my spouse. Most days I am either too tired or too angry to muster up loving emotions.
I love my husband, he can crack me up with his corny sense of humor, even when I am so angry at him. I adore our son, his giggle gives me an emotional high that no chocolate has ever come close to equaling (and if you know me, that is saying A LOT). However, on those challenging days, I just feel like running away, being by myself and getting back to feeling like me. I so want to be able to be the loving wife and patient mother I dreamed of being when I fantasized about my future. I try and I try but I finally realized: no matter what I do, it will never be enough in my mind. However, when my husband steps in, with concern in his eyes because he knows I am wiped, I see he appreciates the hard work of balancing the roles of mommy & wife. When I give Josh kisses on his belly, as I change yet another dirty diaper, and he squeals in delight, I see, what I am doing as his mom is good enough for him. In the end, isn’t that what really matters?
When Josh gets sick and needs to be taken to the doctor, mommy takes off from work to go there. When Josh wakes up crying and needs to be consoled, mommy has to groggily get out of bed and comfort him back to sleep. Mommy packs her clothes and Josh’s clothes when we have to go away for a couple of hours or for a couple of days. Daddy gets to do the fun stuff. Daddy swings him up in the air, tickles him and makes him laugh, mommy changes poopie diapers.
I am utterly exhausted with being the mommy. I need a vacation from being the mommy. I want to have the energy to just enjoy my husband and my son but, the past couple of days, I just don’t. Husband is out of town on a business trip and so now, even the things he does to help, fall on my shoulders. I am in awe of single moms who do this every day. Faced with having to do it alone for 2 more days is making me anxious just thinking about it.
I dreamed of motherhood for many years, romanticized it. I never realized how much work it is! The spitting up, the crying, the gross bodily functions and that was just coming from me right after giving birth! Josh is generally affable, but he is still a baby. He cries, he gets fussy, he gets bored, he gets angry, sometimes all at once. Since he can’t tell me what’s wrong, I have to guess. Diaper clean? Check. Hungry? Nope. Tired? Ahhh, that’s it. Insert pacifier, soothe baby and hope he falls out soon.
There are times I think, can I do this again? I love Josh, but I hate being exhausted. I hate snapping at my husband and making him feel small and insignificant because I am frustrated and overwhelmed. I miss the days of being so affectionate with my spouse. Most days I am either too tired or too angry to muster up loving emotions.
I love my husband, he can crack me up with his corny sense of humor, even when I am so angry at him. I adore our son, his giggle gives me an emotional high that no chocolate has ever come close to equaling (and if you know me, that is saying A LOT). However, on those challenging days, I just feel like running away, being by myself and getting back to feeling like me. I so want to be able to be the loving wife and patient mother I dreamed of being when I fantasized about my future. I try and I try but I finally realized: no matter what I do, it will never be enough in my mind. However, when my husband steps in, with concern in his eyes because he knows I am wiped, I see he appreciates the hard work of balancing the roles of mommy & wife. When I give Josh kisses on his belly, as I change yet another dirty diaper, and he squeals in delight, I see, what I am doing as his mom is good enough for him. In the end, isn’t that what really matters?
Monday, June 16, 2008
Family Ties
I love my family, I really do, but there is no one else in the world that can mess you up as much as your family can.
If life were like the sitcoms I watched growing up, at the end of 30 minutes all my issues with siblings and parents would be resolved. (Unless it was a very special episode, then it would take 60 minutes to reach our resolution.) While I claim the absurdities in my life are a sitcom, my life is not a TV show. My parents are not the Keatons. My siblings and I are not Alex, Mallory, Jennifer, or the 4th kid who isn’t important enough to name since he was just brought in for the “cute” factor to liven up the series. (Didn’t work for me, anyone else?)
How do you talk to your parents about things that bother you without hurting them? As a new parent myself, I am now more sensitive to this. How would I want Josh to speak to me in 30 years if he had a problem? Heck, how would I want him to talk to me at any time in the future?
My husband and I talk a lot. We work through our issues. Sometimes he has to chase me out of the cave I run to hide in, but eventually, we always talk things out. I credit my husband with being the stronger one in this productive discussion department. He is our fearless captain in the choppy waters of marital strife. While all the conversations aren’t always pleasant, the open lines of communication are important and I am glad we have that in our marriage.
I am hopeful, that as Josh grows up he recognizes this about his parents. I hope he knows that although a conversation can be difficult, as long as he is open and honest with his feelings and communicates with us, our relationship as parent and child will only get stronger.
Back to my first question, after just spending father’s day with my whole family and having numerous issues that bothered me come up, how come I couldn’t have a discussion about it with my folks? Why can’t I speak with them in the way I hope Josh will feel comfortable speaking with us one day?
If the lyrics from Family Ties are true “There aint no nothing we can’t love each other through” I shouldn’t be frightened to talk it out with my parents. Unfortunately, as I said, my life is not a sitcom – more like a miniseries…and I never had the patience to watch those. They were way too long and too melodramatic.
If life were like the sitcoms I watched growing up, at the end of 30 minutes all my issues with siblings and parents would be resolved. (Unless it was a very special episode, then it would take 60 minutes to reach our resolution.) While I claim the absurdities in my life are a sitcom, my life is not a TV show. My parents are not the Keatons. My siblings and I are not Alex, Mallory, Jennifer, or the 4th kid who isn’t important enough to name since he was just brought in for the “cute” factor to liven up the series. (Didn’t work for me, anyone else?)
How do you talk to your parents about things that bother you without hurting them? As a new parent myself, I am now more sensitive to this. How would I want Josh to speak to me in 30 years if he had a problem? Heck, how would I want him to talk to me at any time in the future?
My husband and I talk a lot. We work through our issues. Sometimes he has to chase me out of the cave I run to hide in, but eventually, we always talk things out. I credit my husband with being the stronger one in this productive discussion department. He is our fearless captain in the choppy waters of marital strife. While all the conversations aren’t always pleasant, the open lines of communication are important and I am glad we have that in our marriage.
I am hopeful, that as Josh grows up he recognizes this about his parents. I hope he knows that although a conversation can be difficult, as long as he is open and honest with his feelings and communicates with us, our relationship as parent and child will only get stronger.
Back to my first question, after just spending father’s day with my whole family and having numerous issues that bothered me come up, how come I couldn’t have a discussion about it with my folks? Why can’t I speak with them in the way I hope Josh will feel comfortable speaking with us one day?
If the lyrics from Family Ties are true “There aint no nothing we can’t love each other through” I shouldn’t be frightened to talk it out with my parents. Unfortunately, as I said, my life is not a sitcom – more like a miniseries…and I never had the patience to watch those. They were way too long and too melodramatic.
Friday, June 13, 2008
My biggest fan
I think I have finally “made it.” I have my own blog groupies. The idea that someone is reading this blog on a regular basis thrills me, even though I know those groupies are my good friends.
Today, I was speaking with M. (M, now the next time we speak you can say “I read your blog and I saw the shout out to me…thanks for using an alias!”) M spouted back to me all the things she and our other friend, S, are reading about me in my blog. My struggles with Weight Watchers, my conflict over when to start trying for a second child, she knew it all. However, it got me to start wondering. If people are reading about my life, what do I have to say to them when we talk?
I am a born entertainer. I love to tell stories and to amuse people. At times, in my desire to disseminate these anecdotes to everyone, I mistakenly repeat them to the same person. If the story is good enough, they listen again, politely. However, with the more mundane ones they jump in and remind me that they have heard it already. Am I “shooting myself in the foot” with this blog? By sharing my anecdotes here, will people now jump in and say “Oh, I already read that in your blog,” when I try to relay a story?
The truth is, the groupies, are great but they can’t be the reason for my writing or not writing. Ultimately, whether anyone is listening or reading my stories, I need to do what I do because I enjoy it myself. Groupies are awesome, but the biggest fan of my stories lives in me. She never jumps in and says “I’ve heard it already.” She listens every time, and enjoys it as much as the first telling. However, I don’t always appreciate her as much as I do the groupies who read this blog. Unfortunately, while we can all be our own biggest fans we can also be our own worst enemies.
Today, I was speaking with M. (M, now the next time we speak you can say “I read your blog and I saw the shout out to me…thanks for using an alias!”) M spouted back to me all the things she and our other friend, S, are reading about me in my blog. My struggles with Weight Watchers, my conflict over when to start trying for a second child, she knew it all. However, it got me to start wondering. If people are reading about my life, what do I have to say to them when we talk?
I am a born entertainer. I love to tell stories and to amuse people. At times, in my desire to disseminate these anecdotes to everyone, I mistakenly repeat them to the same person. If the story is good enough, they listen again, politely. However, with the more mundane ones they jump in and remind me that they have heard it already. Am I “shooting myself in the foot” with this blog? By sharing my anecdotes here, will people now jump in and say “Oh, I already read that in your blog,” when I try to relay a story?
The truth is, the groupies, are great but they can’t be the reason for my writing or not writing. Ultimately, whether anyone is listening or reading my stories, I need to do what I do because I enjoy it myself. Groupies are awesome, but the biggest fan of my stories lives in me. She never jumps in and says “I’ve heard it already.” She listens every time, and enjoys it as much as the first telling. However, I don’t always appreciate her as much as I do the groupies who read this blog. Unfortunately, while we can all be our own biggest fans we can also be our own worst enemies.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Walk and Kick
In the never ending battle between me and the scale, I have enlisted a new ally. At over a month of dieting and a net weight loss of 5 pounds, I knew it was time to call in the reinforcements. Today, I enlisted the help of Leslie Sansone of the Walk Away the Pounds videos.
My first video is called walk and kick. It is a combo of walking and kickboxing and today was my maiden voyage trying it. Know what I learned? I am really out of shape. A video like this one, would have been relatively easy for me before pregnancy. I had achieved a level of fitness that I was pretty proud of after years of inactivity. I continued exercising throughout my pregnancy but then stopped once Josh was born. In seven months of being sedentary, I have lost most of the hard work it took 5 long years to achieve.
While invigorated initially after the workout, I am now exhausted. Right now, a nap is even more appealing then a bowl of ice cream. Is that the point of exercise? Are you supposed to get so tired that you don’t have the energy to get up to grab a slice of cake? If yes, well I have achieved that goal. Leslie said that doing this tape would mean I wouldn’t suffer the 2PM “crash” people experience. She was right, I didn’t crash at 2 but, at a quarter to 4 I find my eyes getting droopy and my head feels heavy.
So now, I am going to walk over to the couch and kick up my legs for a well deserved catnap. Now THAT kind of walking and kicking, is the exercise routine I have perfected in the past seven months. As my feet hit the couch, I swear I heard the scale laughing.
My first video is called walk and kick. It is a combo of walking and kickboxing and today was my maiden voyage trying it. Know what I learned? I am really out of shape. A video like this one, would have been relatively easy for me before pregnancy. I had achieved a level of fitness that I was pretty proud of after years of inactivity. I continued exercising throughout my pregnancy but then stopped once Josh was born. In seven months of being sedentary, I have lost most of the hard work it took 5 long years to achieve.
While invigorated initially after the workout, I am now exhausted. Right now, a nap is even more appealing then a bowl of ice cream. Is that the point of exercise? Are you supposed to get so tired that you don’t have the energy to get up to grab a slice of cake? If yes, well I have achieved that goal. Leslie said that doing this tape would mean I wouldn’t suffer the 2PM “crash” people experience. She was right, I didn’t crash at 2 but, at a quarter to 4 I find my eyes getting droopy and my head feels heavy.
So now, I am going to walk over to the couch and kick up my legs for a well deserved catnap. Now THAT kind of walking and kicking, is the exercise routine I have perfected in the past seven months. As my feet hit the couch, I swear I heard the scale laughing.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Feeling Stumped
Brain dumb.
Inspiration won’t come.
Poor ink.
Bum Pen.
Best Wishes.
Amen.
The above poem keeps running through my head. I had this book in elementary school that listed different creative ways to sign a yearbook and the prose above was one of the choices. What was it about that poem that stuck with me? How do some written words stay with you for life, while others disappear without a second thought.
Writing this blog is much harder than I thought. Each day I am challenged to come up with something mesmerizing, something fascinating for you guys to read. My life has its moments of excitement, but like most people, there are many ordinary days. You know those days. You get up, go to work, pick up some groceries on the way home, play with your kid(s), eat some dinner, go to bed and start the same routine over the next day.
I want to be the kind of author that my readers are eager to read. I want to inspire the kind of loyalty that we all have to specific favorite writers. You enjoy their work so much that you keep coming back for more. You have the intense desire to know what happens next and you can’t wait until you can read it. Would people be as devoted to Stephen King if he spent a page describing what his character had for lunch? (I had a pizza bagel today, just in case that kind of information does rock your world.)
I have racked my brain, stopped and started numerous ideas today, and nothing seems to work for me. So instead of some novel post, you are getting my poem called “Writer’s block.”
Woke up and felt like a fool.
Couldn’t write anything cool.
Made a lame attempt to create a rhyme
That you’d quote back, time after time.
Although I gave it the old college try.
It’s time to close this post and say good-bye.
What are the odds some of you will be quoting THAT stunning work of poetry 25 years from now? Then again, it’s amazing what stays with you. Twenty five years ago, I thought the poem I started this post with was just one of hundreds I read. I can’t quote you The Raven, but I can quote you Feeling Stumped. Guess there is hope for me as a writer yet.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
To conceive or not to conceive? That is the question.
People warned me that, after having a baby, weight loss would be more difficult. Once again, I was extremely naïve and assumed it would not apply to me. I was wrong.
I have been disappointed with my progress on Weight Watchers. I assumed I could lose 25 pounds in three months like I did before I had Josh. It has been a month now and I am down a total of 7 pounds. Sounds great, right? Well, I lost 6 pounds the first week. I lost 2 pounds the second week. I lost 0 pounds in the third week and I gained 1 pound last week. That gives me a net loss of 7 pounds. At this rate, I’ll be back where I started in another two months!
What makes this struggle all the more stressful is that annoyingly loud, ticking biological clock. We want more kids and I am not getting any younger. I wanted to be at my “fighting weight” before starting to try for baby #2, but it feels unrealistic now. At this rate Josh will be married with his own kids before I can start on giving him a sibling, if I wait until I reach goal weight.
Dear Husband points out that, I was able to lose weight before and I will be able to do it again, whether it is before or after another baby. He has left the decision up to me as to when we start “trying” again. The core issue is, that I am worried about how long it will take to get pregnant again. If it happens right away, while a blessing, there goes the opportunity to drop some poundage. However, if I wait until after I lose weight, and it takes a long time to get pregnant again, will I kick myself for having waited so long?
See, this is where my need to have control, my being neurotic, comes into play. I want to know now what the right thing is here. I want some voice from heaven to proclaim the decision I should be making. There are always the voices in my head, but they can’t seem to agree here. The magic 8 ball has been no help either, it keeps telling me “reply hazy try again”- thanks for news flash there. I even resorted to flipping a quarter for the heads/tails option. I know you are not going to believe me but, it bounced on the floor and for the life of me I can’t find where it landed.
Since I am not getting any clear signs, for now, I am doing what I always do – procrastinating. I am putting of making the decision (which in essence means I am actually deciding to wait to try again). Each time I pop a birth control pill I agonize as to whether the decision is the right one. Each time I step on the scale, I feel like waiting isn’t such a bad thing. Each time I see a baby girl, I get misty eyed at the thought that I could have one myself, if I just tried. Each time I see a little girl stress about diet, I worry about the example I’d set for a daughter with my weight obsession and think it's a good idea to wait to conceive until I am more comfortable with my body.
The original quote I co-opted in my title, is from Hamlet. The phrase has been used and parodied by numerous people since the moment Shakespeare wrote it. The character of Hamlet is one I relate to, on the decision making level. Hamlet is unable to do, he is only able to be. He is incapable of making a difficult decision that he faces (though scholars debate what the nature of the decision was suicide or revenge). However, at the end of it all, what Hamlet believes in is “special providence”, a faith that God has the ability to sort out the messes in the world. That’s the same kind of faith I have too. Of course Hamlet is a tragedy, which ends with a huge bloodbath, so maybe he’s not the best example to choose for my indecisiveness.
Maybe I’ll just make the decision myself after all. I just need to go crawling around on the floor first, that quarter has got be here somewhere!
I have been disappointed with my progress on Weight Watchers. I assumed I could lose 25 pounds in three months like I did before I had Josh. It has been a month now and I am down a total of 7 pounds. Sounds great, right? Well, I lost 6 pounds the first week. I lost 2 pounds the second week. I lost 0 pounds in the third week and I gained 1 pound last week. That gives me a net loss of 7 pounds. At this rate, I’ll be back where I started in another two months!
What makes this struggle all the more stressful is that annoyingly loud, ticking biological clock. We want more kids and I am not getting any younger. I wanted to be at my “fighting weight” before starting to try for baby #2, but it feels unrealistic now. At this rate Josh will be married with his own kids before I can start on giving him a sibling, if I wait until I reach goal weight.
Dear Husband points out that, I was able to lose weight before and I will be able to do it again, whether it is before or after another baby. He has left the decision up to me as to when we start “trying” again. The core issue is, that I am worried about how long it will take to get pregnant again. If it happens right away, while a blessing, there goes the opportunity to drop some poundage. However, if I wait until after I lose weight, and it takes a long time to get pregnant again, will I kick myself for having waited so long?
See, this is where my need to have control, my being neurotic, comes into play. I want to know now what the right thing is here. I want some voice from heaven to proclaim the decision I should be making. There are always the voices in my head, but they can’t seem to agree here. The magic 8 ball has been no help either, it keeps telling me “reply hazy try again”- thanks for news flash there. I even resorted to flipping a quarter for the heads/tails option. I know you are not going to believe me but, it bounced on the floor and for the life of me I can’t find where it landed.
Since I am not getting any clear signs, for now, I am doing what I always do – procrastinating. I am putting of making the decision (which in essence means I am actually deciding to wait to try again). Each time I pop a birth control pill I agonize as to whether the decision is the right one. Each time I step on the scale, I feel like waiting isn’t such a bad thing. Each time I see a baby girl, I get misty eyed at the thought that I could have one myself, if I just tried. Each time I see a little girl stress about diet, I worry about the example I’d set for a daughter with my weight obsession and think it's a good idea to wait to conceive until I am more comfortable with my body.
The original quote I co-opted in my title, is from Hamlet. The phrase has been used and parodied by numerous people since the moment Shakespeare wrote it. The character of Hamlet is one I relate to, on the decision making level. Hamlet is unable to do, he is only able to be. He is incapable of making a difficult decision that he faces (though scholars debate what the nature of the decision was suicide or revenge). However, at the end of it all, what Hamlet believes in is “special providence”, a faith that God has the ability to sort out the messes in the world. That’s the same kind of faith I have too. Of course Hamlet is a tragedy, which ends with a huge bloodbath, so maybe he’s not the best example to choose for my indecisiveness.
Maybe I’ll just make the decision myself after all. I just need to go crawling around on the floor first, that quarter has got be here somewhere!
Monday, June 2, 2008
Spoiler Alert
I have no patience and I don’t like to be surprised. I have this insatiable need to know it all now. If there is a movie I want to see, and I know I may not get to go for a while, I read a movie spoiler. Sure, eventually I’ll see the movie too, but I need to be able to converse about it while it is still “hot.”
It is the same with books. I am one of maybe 5 people in the universe who has not read the Harry Potter series but I still HAD to know what was going on. So, while other voracious fans slept outside to be able to purchase a book at 12:01 AM, I went to bed. I logged on to some book spoiler sites first thing in the morning and discovered all the pertinent plot details that readers posted after spending all night finishing the book.
Which is all the more astounding that I actually waited 9 whole months to discover I was having a baby boy. With an ultrasound, I could have found out sooner but, you see, my husband is the anti-spoiler. Dear husband wanted to be surprised. He felt that there are such few things in life to be surprised about, why ruin this one? He told me I could find out if I wanted to, but I couldn’t share the information with him or anyone else. Was he kidding? What good was my discovering the information if I couldn’t share it? So, it wasn’t until the delivery room that I discovered that testosterone was going to outnumber estrogen in our home.
This weekend, I saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (and, yes, I read the spoiler before going). In the movie is a character named Irina Spalko. SPOILER AHEAD -- DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW A PLOT DETAIL!!!!!
Irina, has an insatiable appetite for knowledge. She wants to be able to see and know everything. She feels that this knowledge will allow her to control everything. However, when she is given this knowledge, she can’t take it. The information is too much and she literally explodes. There’s probably a lesson there, but is too much knowledge really such a bad thing?
I feel like I am going to explode when I want to know something but for some reason I can’t. Whether it was searching for months for spoilers on the Sex and the City Movie and not finding them or not knowing if a friend is pregnant or not, I need to know. I hate feeling so out of control! I want to know how things are going to turn out before they happen. If I quit my job and stay at home, will that be a huge mistake? If I continue working and leave Josh in a babysitter’s hands, will I look back and regret that decision? How many children will I have? Will I win the lottery one day? Will I get breast cancer like my mom or diabetes like my dad? Will I EVER get back to my pre-pregnancy weight? Where can I find the spoilers for these questions?
I have told dear husband that next time I find out I am pregnant, I fully intend to find out what the sex of the baby is with the ultrasound no matter what he says, since the last time not knowing drove me so crazy. He shook his head, at the loon that is his wife, sighed, and said “Why don’t you just wait until you are pregnant again and see how you feel then?” This need of mine to know the answers without having to wait, without having to live through the experiences is overwhelming. Am I so obsessed with finding spoilers in my life that I am actually spoiling the enjoyment of the ride?
It is the same with books. I am one of maybe 5 people in the universe who has not read the Harry Potter series but I still HAD to know what was going on. So, while other voracious fans slept outside to be able to purchase a book at 12:01 AM, I went to bed. I logged on to some book spoiler sites first thing in the morning and discovered all the pertinent plot details that readers posted after spending all night finishing the book.
Which is all the more astounding that I actually waited 9 whole months to discover I was having a baby boy. With an ultrasound, I could have found out sooner but, you see, my husband is the anti-spoiler. Dear husband wanted to be surprised. He felt that there are such few things in life to be surprised about, why ruin this one? He told me I could find out if I wanted to, but I couldn’t share the information with him or anyone else. Was he kidding? What good was my discovering the information if I couldn’t share it? So, it wasn’t until the delivery room that I discovered that testosterone was going to outnumber estrogen in our home.
This weekend, I saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull (and, yes, I read the spoiler before going). In the movie is a character named Irina Spalko. SPOILER AHEAD -- DO NOT READ IF YOU DON’T WANT TO KNOW A PLOT DETAIL!!!!!
Irina, has an insatiable appetite for knowledge. She wants to be able to see and know everything. She feels that this knowledge will allow her to control everything. However, when she is given this knowledge, she can’t take it. The information is too much and she literally explodes. There’s probably a lesson there, but is too much knowledge really such a bad thing?
I feel like I am going to explode when I want to know something but for some reason I can’t. Whether it was searching for months for spoilers on the Sex and the City Movie and not finding them or not knowing if a friend is pregnant or not, I need to know. I hate feeling so out of control! I want to know how things are going to turn out before they happen. If I quit my job and stay at home, will that be a huge mistake? If I continue working and leave Josh in a babysitter’s hands, will I look back and regret that decision? How many children will I have? Will I win the lottery one day? Will I get breast cancer like my mom or diabetes like my dad? Will I EVER get back to my pre-pregnancy weight? Where can I find the spoilers for these questions?
I have told dear husband that next time I find out I am pregnant, I fully intend to find out what the sex of the baby is with the ultrasound no matter what he says, since the last time not knowing drove me so crazy. He shook his head, at the loon that is his wife, sighed, and said “Why don’t you just wait until you are pregnant again and see how you feel then?” This need of mine to know the answers without having to wait, without having to live through the experiences is overwhelming. Am I so obsessed with finding spoilers in my life that I am actually spoiling the enjoyment of the ride?
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Commitment Issues
It’s ironic, for years I have wanted the security of a strong commitment, someone who would be there for me whenever I needed them. Now, after finding that special someone, I am having major commitment issues.
I have been steadfast and loyal to Weight Watchers for three weeks now and today I felt myself waning. When your weight doesn’t go down or worse it goes up, which is normal in any form of modified diet, that is the true test of your commitment. Will you be strong and resist temptation or will you cave into negative feelings and the taunts of the scale? I always considered myself the loyal type but, today, I learned I’m not. The scale disappointed me and I became a cheater.
Two bowls of ice cream and a chocolate bar later, I have “cheated” on my diet. I threw caution to the wind and didn’t even bother to count my points today. I knew what I was doing was wrong but it felt so right. I knew I’d hate myself in the morning but, in the heat of the moment, I derived so much pleasure, I didn’t care about the consequences. Then, when it was time to eat a real dinner, I was caught in the act. There were definitely no more daily points left for real food and I still needed to fulfill my 8 healthy guidelines. Did I own up to what I did and go to bed hungry? No. I ate some more.
Poor Weight Watchers. So innocent in this whole situation. All it ever did was try to help me. It’s been there for me every time I needed it. It helped me through pre-wedding weight loss to fit into that fairytale gown. It supported me in my desire to lose post wedding newlywed weight gain. After all it has done for me, I let it down. Do you think it will ever trust me again? Do you think it will take me back?
The great thing about Weight Watchers is that it is forgiving. It hears and accepts my excuses time after time. “I’ll go back on my diet after this party.” “I’ll start Weight Watchers again on Monday.” “I’m too tired to measure my food, chop up salad etc…I’ll start -- tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. I always promise Weight Watchers that I’ll change tomorrow. It sadly accepts my promises but it knows me better by now. Weight Watchers and I have this love/hate relationship. When things are going well, I am proud of it, I introduce it to all my friends. However, when things are going bad, I hide it away and deny our relationship even exists.
Weight Watchers, you deserve better then a big old cheater like me but I thank you for sticking by me anyway. Although I sometimes act like “I’m just not that into you”, I really do want to commit to you with all my heart. Be patient with me, I just need one last fling with that scrumptious doughnut I saw in the bakery on my way home from the library today. I hope you understand, you’re awesome, the problem here, it’s not you, its me.
I have been steadfast and loyal to Weight Watchers for three weeks now and today I felt myself waning. When your weight doesn’t go down or worse it goes up, which is normal in any form of modified diet, that is the true test of your commitment. Will you be strong and resist temptation or will you cave into negative feelings and the taunts of the scale? I always considered myself the loyal type but, today, I learned I’m not. The scale disappointed me and I became a cheater.
Two bowls of ice cream and a chocolate bar later, I have “cheated” on my diet. I threw caution to the wind and didn’t even bother to count my points today. I knew what I was doing was wrong but it felt so right. I knew I’d hate myself in the morning but, in the heat of the moment, I derived so much pleasure, I didn’t care about the consequences. Then, when it was time to eat a real dinner, I was caught in the act. There were definitely no more daily points left for real food and I still needed to fulfill my 8 healthy guidelines. Did I own up to what I did and go to bed hungry? No. I ate some more.
Poor Weight Watchers. So innocent in this whole situation. All it ever did was try to help me. It’s been there for me every time I needed it. It helped me through pre-wedding weight loss to fit into that fairytale gown. It supported me in my desire to lose post wedding newlywed weight gain. After all it has done for me, I let it down. Do you think it will ever trust me again? Do you think it will take me back?
The great thing about Weight Watchers is that it is forgiving. It hears and accepts my excuses time after time. “I’ll go back on my diet after this party.” “I’ll start Weight Watchers again on Monday.” “I’m too tired to measure my food, chop up salad etc…I’ll start -- tomorrow.”
Tomorrow. I always promise Weight Watchers that I’ll change tomorrow. It sadly accepts my promises but it knows me better by now. Weight Watchers and I have this love/hate relationship. When things are going well, I am proud of it, I introduce it to all my friends. However, when things are going bad, I hide it away and deny our relationship even exists.
Weight Watchers, you deserve better then a big old cheater like me but I thank you for sticking by me anyway. Although I sometimes act like “I’m just not that into you”, I really do want to commit to you with all my heart. Be patient with me, I just need one last fling with that scrumptious doughnut I saw in the bakery on my way home from the library today. I hope you understand, you’re awesome, the problem here, it’s not you, its me.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
All by myself, don't wanna be all by myself.
I miss my friends.
I miss those college days when your best friends were just a couple doors away. As I got older, and friends got married and moved away, I was still fortunate to have a large enough circle that, there was always at least one good friend that was close enough to grab a slice of pizza with and chat about our day. Stick a fork in it, those days are done.
It’s official now, all my close friends are gone. This past weekend my last, close, local, friend moved away with her husband to the suburbs. I am now all alone.
As a mom, most of the time you barely have enough room in your schedule for your husband, but knowing you have the ability to meet a friend, even in you are never able to take advantage of it, is a comfort. Talking with friends on the phone, is how you have most of your contact with them, so the move doesn’t really make that much of a difference, but, yet it does. In your mind, with them close by, you still feel like that carefree, single college kid who hung out with her friends whenever she felt like it. However, when they leave, you slowly begin to realize, that you are not that single girl in the dorms anymore and that is probably why your mom isn’t totally freaking out that you’re living and {gasp} sleeping with a man.
It’s hitting me hard this week because of the Sex and the City movie coming out – the ultimate chick flick. I used to watch the television show with close friends when we were single and we had an amazing time. None of those good friends live near me anymore. Who am I going to go to the movie with now? Dear husband is hoping and praying that I meet and click with someone new before Saturday night, so he doesn’t have to become my new girlfriend for this movie viewing.
Why can’t my life be a little more like sex and the city? Those girls were so different from each other, in different stages in their lives and yet they always managed to find time to hang out together. Granted, you rarely saw them actually working, cleaning their homes or any other number of mundane daily chores but they made their friendship a top priority. They went clubbing together, out to breakfast or to some art museum and still had time to get married, have a baby and battle breast cancer. Those women achieved a balance in their lives. Bet you that someone, Carrie, Miranda, Samantha or all three would go out with Charlotte to the movies, she wouldn’t have to drag poor Harry, like I have to drag dear husband. The fantasy of TV land is so appealing.
Charlotte uttered a line to the other three girls in an episode of sex and they city that so resonated with me when I was single and dating, that still holds true: "Don't laugh at me, but maybe we can be each other's soul-mates? And then, we could let men be just these great, nice guys to have fun with."
I love my husband, he is my best friend, but my girls, my close knit group of friends, are my soul-mates. Only another girl can understand menstrual cramps and labor pains. Only another girl understands how depressing it is to gain five pounds and how much more depressing it is to try to lose 10 pounds when eating about that 5 pound weight gain caused it to double. There are no real replacements for Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte or Samantha in each other’s lives. They can meet other people who they can hang out with but they will never be their soul mates. My close friends, and you know who you are, there is no replacing you.
Don’t laugh at me guys but, when I do finally see the movie with dear husband, I’ll be seeing it with him, but I’ll be pretending I am seeing it with you.
I miss those college days when your best friends were just a couple doors away. As I got older, and friends got married and moved away, I was still fortunate to have a large enough circle that, there was always at least one good friend that was close enough to grab a slice of pizza with and chat about our day. Stick a fork in it, those days are done.
It’s official now, all my close friends are gone. This past weekend my last, close, local, friend moved away with her husband to the suburbs. I am now all alone.
As a mom, most of the time you barely have enough room in your schedule for your husband, but knowing you have the ability to meet a friend, even in you are never able to take advantage of it, is a comfort. Talking with friends on the phone, is how you have most of your contact with them, so the move doesn’t really make that much of a difference, but, yet it does. In your mind, with them close by, you still feel like that carefree, single college kid who hung out with her friends whenever she felt like it. However, when they leave, you slowly begin to realize, that you are not that single girl in the dorms anymore and that is probably why your mom isn’t totally freaking out that you’re living and {gasp} sleeping with a man.
It’s hitting me hard this week because of the Sex and the City movie coming out – the ultimate chick flick. I used to watch the television show with close friends when we were single and we had an amazing time. None of those good friends live near me anymore. Who am I going to go to the movie with now? Dear husband is hoping and praying that I meet and click with someone new before Saturday night, so he doesn’t have to become my new girlfriend for this movie viewing.
Why can’t my life be a little more like sex and the city? Those girls were so different from each other, in different stages in their lives and yet they always managed to find time to hang out together. Granted, you rarely saw them actually working, cleaning their homes or any other number of mundane daily chores but they made their friendship a top priority. They went clubbing together, out to breakfast or to some art museum and still had time to get married, have a baby and battle breast cancer. Those women achieved a balance in their lives. Bet you that someone, Carrie, Miranda, Samantha or all three would go out with Charlotte to the movies, she wouldn’t have to drag poor Harry, like I have to drag dear husband. The fantasy of TV land is so appealing.
Charlotte uttered a line to the other three girls in an episode of sex and they city that so resonated with me when I was single and dating, that still holds true: "Don't laugh at me, but maybe we can be each other's soul-mates? And then, we could let men be just these great, nice guys to have fun with."
I love my husband, he is my best friend, but my girls, my close knit group of friends, are my soul-mates. Only another girl can understand menstrual cramps and labor pains. Only another girl understands how depressing it is to gain five pounds and how much more depressing it is to try to lose 10 pounds when eating about that 5 pound weight gain caused it to double. There are no real replacements for Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte or Samantha in each other’s lives. They can meet other people who they can hang out with but they will never be their soul mates. My close friends, and you know who you are, there is no replacing you.
Don’t laugh at me guys but, when I do finally see the movie with dear husband, I’ll be seeing it with him, but I’ll be pretending I am seeing it with you.
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
It's 80 degrees outside and I am wearing a jacket
You're all screaming "Why?" I am too. I went to move the car (again, alternate side of the street parking rules REALLY suck) and threw on my black jacket even though I knew it was hot outside. I have this weird need to wear a jacket ALL the time when I am outside my home. Somehow, I feel that by wearing the jacket I look better, less fat somehow. I don't even think about the fact that, without the jacket, rarely anyone would give me a second look. However, with the jacket everyone looks and thinks "Why is that freak wearing a jacket when it is 80 degrees outside?"
The earliest recollection I have of this weird behavior is in the 7th grade. Puberty was in full bloom and, let's just say, I blossomed early in the “boobage” department. Having cleavage that a college student would use to her every advantage, was not as appealing to a shy, slightly overweight, junior high student. I remember being teased mercilessly by classmates and that's when the jacket made its first appearance. I recall that the first jacket I wore was my dad's black members only jacket. I wore it ALL the time. On the heat stifled bus, in the steaming classroom, even when teachers asked if I was warm, I insisted I was cold and needed it.
For years I wore that jacket as a suit of armor. Perhaps, on a deeper level, I thought the jacket offered me some protection. I thought it could protect me from the harsh stares of disapproval, the cruel taunting remarks about my weight. Although it didn't do that, maybe the jacket was my security blanket. Even though it didn't make any sense to do it, wearing that jacket made me feel more emotionally comfortable despite the physical discomfort.
When I lost weight, the jacket disappeared. I only wore jackets when I was really cold. Form fitting tops, accentuating the “bounty that the lord bestowed upon me”, became the norm in my wardrobe. However, when I became pregnant with Joshua and the weight started creeping up, the jacket reared its ugly head again. Think I am crazy today for wearing a jacket? I was certifiable for wearing a jacket in the summer when I was 7 months pregnant! Are you sweating just thinking about it? Now that summer is right around the corner again, I am sorry to say the jacket is still the first thing I grab on my way out the door.
My dear husband thinks I am being silly, he constantly tells me to take the jacket off and not in a sexy way. He pointed out that if I continue to feel this way about myself, so will others, including him. I know he’s right but I can’t seem to stop. Without the jacket I feel naked, vulnerable and I can’t seem to let it go. Sometimes, I think resolving this issue would make a therapist a bundle, definitely enough to pay for a second summer home. Until I am brave enough to tackle these demons, I’ll just try and walk it off by taking a stroll around the block to clear my head. I just need to grab my jacket on the way out.
***Since I missed Monday's post you get two today -- Twofer Tuesday!
The earliest recollection I have of this weird behavior is in the 7th grade. Puberty was in full bloom and, let's just say, I blossomed early in the “boobage” department. Having cleavage that a college student would use to her every advantage, was not as appealing to a shy, slightly overweight, junior high student. I remember being teased mercilessly by classmates and that's when the jacket made its first appearance. I recall that the first jacket I wore was my dad's black members only jacket. I wore it ALL the time. On the heat stifled bus, in the steaming classroom, even when teachers asked if I was warm, I insisted I was cold and needed it.
For years I wore that jacket as a suit of armor. Perhaps, on a deeper level, I thought the jacket offered me some protection. I thought it could protect me from the harsh stares of disapproval, the cruel taunting remarks about my weight. Although it didn't do that, maybe the jacket was my security blanket. Even though it didn't make any sense to do it, wearing that jacket made me feel more emotionally comfortable despite the physical discomfort.
When I lost weight, the jacket disappeared. I only wore jackets when I was really cold. Form fitting tops, accentuating the “bounty that the lord bestowed upon me”, became the norm in my wardrobe. However, when I became pregnant with Joshua and the weight started creeping up, the jacket reared its ugly head again. Think I am crazy today for wearing a jacket? I was certifiable for wearing a jacket in the summer when I was 7 months pregnant! Are you sweating just thinking about it? Now that summer is right around the corner again, I am sorry to say the jacket is still the first thing I grab on my way out the door.
My dear husband thinks I am being silly, he constantly tells me to take the jacket off and not in a sexy way. He pointed out that if I continue to feel this way about myself, so will others, including him. I know he’s right but I can’t seem to stop. Without the jacket I feel naked, vulnerable and I can’t seem to let it go. Sometimes, I think resolving this issue would make a therapist a bundle, definitely enough to pay for a second summer home. Until I am brave enough to tackle these demons, I’ll just try and walk it off by taking a stroll around the block to clear my head. I just need to grab my jacket on the way out.
***Since I missed Monday's post you get two today -- Twofer Tuesday!
Save me 100 calorie packs! You are the only ones who can.
Long weekends, LOVE them! However, they come at a price. People usually take advantage of the extra day to throw parties, barbeques, family gatherings, basically, any excuse to thrust massive quantities of food on you.
Pre WW (Weight Watchers) these long weekends were a food fest for me. Just one more hot dog, just one more slice of cake, just one more bite of lasagna, I ate until I felt like I would explode. This was my first long weekend post-WW again and boy how things have changed. I am amazed at how little healthy food is served at these festivities. A couple of slice of melon, some cucumbers and tomatoes and then I have exhausted my options.
However, having been down this road before, I was well aware of these obstacles that people unintentionally put you through. I came equipped to yesterday’s party with my healthy eating utility pack. There was my fiber one baggie, to get that full feeling plus it helped with my daily fiber requirements. My hard boiled egg whites were there for my protein kick and went nicely with the cucumbers and tomatoes. Finally, there are the ingenious 100 calorie snacks/packs, so I didn’t miss out on dessert when everyone else was wolfing down that cake.
I’ll be honest, chomping away at fiber one while others are voraciously attacking fresh French bread is not as satisfying in the moment, but I try to look at the bigger picture. A lot of people on the WW message boards utter the mantra “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels” and I wholeheartedly agree. There are times I prefer to have something taste good but WW allows you to do that and still be on track. If I sound like a WW groupie it is because I am. I have found no other way to eat that works for me but this one. What I LOVE about WW is that I can still have my normal foods if I want them but in moderation.
On Atkins, I suffered the smells of ketosis, on the grapefruit diet I just suffered. On WW I have had mini cupcakes, cookies, pizza, stuffed shells, ice cream and I have still lost weight. Broccoli tastes a whole lot better when it is followed by a yummy dessert -- with WW that is possible. So I say, let them eat cake, I will too and I’ll get skinnier every day I do it!
Pre WW (Weight Watchers) these long weekends were a food fest for me. Just one more hot dog, just one more slice of cake, just one more bite of lasagna, I ate until I felt like I would explode. This was my first long weekend post-WW again and boy how things have changed. I am amazed at how little healthy food is served at these festivities. A couple of slice of melon, some cucumbers and tomatoes and then I have exhausted my options.
However, having been down this road before, I was well aware of these obstacles that people unintentionally put you through. I came equipped to yesterday’s party with my healthy eating utility pack. There was my fiber one baggie, to get that full feeling plus it helped with my daily fiber requirements. My hard boiled egg whites were there for my protein kick and went nicely with the cucumbers and tomatoes. Finally, there are the ingenious 100 calorie snacks/packs, so I didn’t miss out on dessert when everyone else was wolfing down that cake.
I’ll be honest, chomping away at fiber one while others are voraciously attacking fresh French bread is not as satisfying in the moment, but I try to look at the bigger picture. A lot of people on the WW message boards utter the mantra “Nothing tastes as good as being thin feels” and I wholeheartedly agree. There are times I prefer to have something taste good but WW allows you to do that and still be on track. If I sound like a WW groupie it is because I am. I have found no other way to eat that works for me but this one. What I LOVE about WW is that I can still have my normal foods if I want them but in moderation.
On Atkins, I suffered the smells of ketosis, on the grapefruit diet I just suffered. On WW I have had mini cupcakes, cookies, pizza, stuffed shells, ice cream and I have still lost weight. Broccoli tastes a whole lot better when it is followed by a yummy dessert -- with WW that is possible. So I say, let them eat cake, I will too and I’ll get skinnier every day I do it!
Friday, May 23, 2008
Long hot showers vs showering Josh with kisses
You know what I love best about finally finding a great babysitter to watch Josh while I work at home? I am more relaxed because I finally have some free time again. For a couple of hours a day I am not a mommy, not a wife, I am free to just be me.
Our new nanny is wonderful. She not only takes care of all of Josh’s needs but she also helps out around the house. A lot of the typical housework I should be doing, she does. Therefore, when Josh goes to bed at night, I now actually have some free time to read a magazine or watch some TV. It makes me wonder if being a stay at home mom is what I want to do or what I feel I have to do.
I love my son and I enjoy spending time with him. That kid has got a killer smile that makes me warm and gooey inside and when he laughs, it takes my breath away. With this new nanny, I am more relaxed, less tense then I have been in a long while. A sense of balance has returned to our home. The petty arguments I had with dear husband, they still happen but, not as frequently as they did before. So I ask myself, is my working better for me and ultimately better for my family?
I am not saying I want to stay in the job I currently hold forever. When we finally move to the suburbs, commuting to this job would mean I would only see Josh on the weekends but, if I could find something part time or local to where we live and have a babysitter too, would that be better for us then my staying home all the time?
Obviously, the financial rewards are a strong motivator for continuing to work but what about the emotional benefits? At the end of my work day, I am eager to be with Josh. I shower him with kisses and play with him until it is time for him go to bed. Then, I still have time for myself too. When I was alone with Josh all day, I often got overwhelmed and frustrated. There were days I didn’t even get to shower! We still had fun together but there were times that I just didn’t have the energy to do what he wanted and I secretly prayed that he’d just take a nap. Was that just part of the new “mommyhood” learning curve or am I just not cut out for being a stay at home mom?
So what’s the answer? Am I a better mom to Josh if I work and spend less time with him, but during that time I am generally in a relaxed and good mood? Is quitting my job the better option? If I did that, I would be spending more time with him where I could be in a good mood but I could also be tense and irritable. However, if I’m at home, I get to watch him grow and not miss out on any of those milestones I have looked forward to for many years when I thought about having kids. If I did that, the house would probably be mess again but would I too?
Is there a way I can balance both? Can I get my long hot showers but also get the chance to shower Josh with kisses any time I want?
I always thought my nature was to be a stay at home mom at all costs. Am I really a horrible, selfish mom for even considering choosing to continue to work over staying home full time with Josh or is that just the guilt talking?
Our new nanny is wonderful. She not only takes care of all of Josh’s needs but she also helps out around the house. A lot of the typical housework I should be doing, she does. Therefore, when Josh goes to bed at night, I now actually have some free time to read a magazine or watch some TV. It makes me wonder if being a stay at home mom is what I want to do or what I feel I have to do.
I love my son and I enjoy spending time with him. That kid has got a killer smile that makes me warm and gooey inside and when he laughs, it takes my breath away. With this new nanny, I am more relaxed, less tense then I have been in a long while. A sense of balance has returned to our home. The petty arguments I had with dear husband, they still happen but, not as frequently as they did before. So I ask myself, is my working better for me and ultimately better for my family?
I am not saying I want to stay in the job I currently hold forever. When we finally move to the suburbs, commuting to this job would mean I would only see Josh on the weekends but, if I could find something part time or local to where we live and have a babysitter too, would that be better for us then my staying home all the time?
Obviously, the financial rewards are a strong motivator for continuing to work but what about the emotional benefits? At the end of my work day, I am eager to be with Josh. I shower him with kisses and play with him until it is time for him go to bed. Then, I still have time for myself too. When I was alone with Josh all day, I often got overwhelmed and frustrated. There were days I didn’t even get to shower! We still had fun together but there were times that I just didn’t have the energy to do what he wanted and I secretly prayed that he’d just take a nap. Was that just part of the new “mommyhood” learning curve or am I just not cut out for being a stay at home mom?
So what’s the answer? Am I a better mom to Josh if I work and spend less time with him, but during that time I am generally in a relaxed and good mood? Is quitting my job the better option? If I did that, I would be spending more time with him where I could be in a good mood but I could also be tense and irritable. However, if I’m at home, I get to watch him grow and not miss out on any of those milestones I have looked forward to for many years when I thought about having kids. If I did that, the house would probably be mess again but would I too?
Is there a way I can balance both? Can I get my long hot showers but also get the chance to shower Josh with kisses any time I want?
I always thought my nature was to be a stay at home mom at all costs. Am I really a horrible, selfish mom for even considering choosing to continue to work over staying home full time with Josh or is that just the guilt talking?
Thursday, May 22, 2008
It’s a miracle!
The other night, on the How I Met your Mother season finale, the character of Marshall shouted “Miracle!” every time something awesome resulted out of what appeared to be a bad event in the beginning. I shout “Miracle!” today.
Something is in the air. Miraculous things are happening this week. The Dancing with the Stars winner was finally a woman again, the right David won American Idol and my credit card company has already removed the charge for the luxury tour in New Zealand that I ranted about yesterday. Will wonders never cease? Miracle!
When a credit card company acts this quickly to correct an error, I am in complete awe and shock. I have so gotten used to incompetence with service providers that, when normal customer service actually takes place, I am completely floored. It gives me hope that the impossible is possible (like that the charge for the playground in Maryland will soon be removed too).
This morning, I spoke with a school I went to, 13 years ago, because I heard they offered lifetime career placement. When I called to take them up on this offer, they told me that a lot had changed in the past 13 years, in the field I studied, and I would have to take the classes again in order for them to help me. Dejectedly, I asked how much that was going to cost me. “Don’t you just understand what lifetime career placement means?” They said. “You wouldn’t have to pay for the classes, they are free to you if you are a paid alumnus. The next time we offer these classes is in November, so give us a call back around then.” I get to be retrained, in a field I loved, at no cost and then they’ll try and help me with job placement? Miracle!!!
I went to move our car (alternate side of the street rules suck!) at lunch and I sat there for a half hour. Bored senseless, I started reading a magazine I had left there, the last time I moved the car. When I went to pick up the magazine, a dollar dropped out of the pages. Miracle! (OK, stretching it on that one, but there is nothing like finding money you didn’t even know you had.)
So, since there has been some sort of shift in the cosmos where it is now “putting things right that once went wrong.” (Bonus points if you know what show I am ripping off with that line.) I think it is the perfect day to invest that dollar and buy a lottery ticket. If my luck holds out today, hopefully, all my previous losses will be righted into a big win. Then, I’ll be shouting “Miracle!”, over a whole lot more than a dollar.
Something is in the air. Miraculous things are happening this week. The Dancing with the Stars winner was finally a woman again, the right David won American Idol and my credit card company has already removed the charge for the luxury tour in New Zealand that I ranted about yesterday. Will wonders never cease? Miracle!
When a credit card company acts this quickly to correct an error, I am in complete awe and shock. I have so gotten used to incompetence with service providers that, when normal customer service actually takes place, I am completely floored. It gives me hope that the impossible is possible (like that the charge for the playground in Maryland will soon be removed too).
This morning, I spoke with a school I went to, 13 years ago, because I heard they offered lifetime career placement. When I called to take them up on this offer, they told me that a lot had changed in the past 13 years, in the field I studied, and I would have to take the classes again in order for them to help me. Dejectedly, I asked how much that was going to cost me. “Don’t you just understand what lifetime career placement means?” They said. “You wouldn’t have to pay for the classes, they are free to you if you are a paid alumnus. The next time we offer these classes is in November, so give us a call back around then.” I get to be retrained, in a field I loved, at no cost and then they’ll try and help me with job placement? Miracle!!!
I went to move our car (alternate side of the street rules suck!) at lunch and I sat there for a half hour. Bored senseless, I started reading a magazine I had left there, the last time I moved the car. When I went to pick up the magazine, a dollar dropped out of the pages. Miracle! (OK, stretching it on that one, but there is nothing like finding money you didn’t even know you had.)
So, since there has been some sort of shift in the cosmos where it is now “putting things right that once went wrong.” (Bonus points if you know what show I am ripping off with that line.) I think it is the perfect day to invest that dollar and buy a lottery ticket. If my luck holds out today, hopefully, all my previous losses will be righted into a big win. Then, I’ll be shouting “Miracle!”, over a whole lot more than a dollar.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
I’m the real Monica Gellar but the fake Monica is on a playground in New Zealand
I feel violated and I am angry about it. Last night, I discovered I was the victim of credit card fraud. Someone stole my credit card number and charged almost $3,000 in New Zealand for a luxury tour and over $3,000 on playground materials in Maryland. Someone is having a lot more fun with my credit card then I am. Reminds me of that episode of Friends where someone steals Monica’s credit card and does much more exciting things with it then Monica has ever done. Just call me Monica.
What amazes me is how lax the credit card company was in this situation. When I charged $700 in one store when I was getting married, they didn’t allow the purchase to go through until I called to confirm that I authorized the charge. Yet, somehow, a $3000 luxury tour in some foreign country didn’t set off any alarms? Apparently, the credit card company thought I went on some adventurous streak all of a sudden and felt no need to check up on me during my mid-life crisis. It also makes complete sense that while I was charging a luxury tour in New Zealand, I was also in Long Island at Target buying paper towels. Good work there, fraud department, you guys are really on top of your game.
As for the playground in Maryland, that charge has been approved but not posted. Therefore, I can’t dispute it, yet. It would make sense to block that purchase, but that would be expecting too much from my credit card company. No, I have to wait for the charge to post and ONLY THEN can I dispute it. So, despite the fact that I have alerted them of this fraud, they are still planning on paying it and then I have to argue to have it removed. Again, that fraud department is really working hard.
The fact that both these purchases were both out of the ordinary for my spending history in both the dollar amount and location makes me wonder. What would set of bells for the credit card company? If I tried to buy a skirt in size 2 would they call me and say, “Who are you kidding? Monica hasn’t been a size 2 EVER, you must be a fraud.” If I bought 3 pounds of asparagus, would they call and say “Fraud! You can’t be our customer, she HATES asaparagus.” If I charged a camping weekend in the woods would they cry out “No way can you be the correct credit card holder, this woman’s idea of roughing it is air drying her hair, she’d never go camping.”
All these years I have been with this same credit card company, you’d think they’d know me and my spending habits by now. In the 6 months that Joshua has been alive the only charges to my credit card have been from grocery stores and baby stores. Perhaps they thought I had some post-partum fit where I flew off to New Zealand, abandoning my husband and child, and then felt so guilty about it I bought Josh a playground? Sure, that makes sense.
After spending 3 hours on the phone with the credit card company last night, the first call, of which I am sure there will be many more for months to come, dear husband told me to look at the bright side. He told me this would be great fodder for my blog. Many months of aggravation, feeling that using a credit card is no longer safe for me, screwing up on Weight Watchers yesterday due to anxiety eating – yeah, so worth a blog honey. I am so tense right now what I really need is a nice relaxing massage. Perhaps I’ll hop a plane to Sweden, for an authentic Swedish massage. Of course, THAT would set off alarms with my credit card company. “Monica, letting someone see her naked? Never! Fraud!”
What amazes me is how lax the credit card company was in this situation. When I charged $700 in one store when I was getting married, they didn’t allow the purchase to go through until I called to confirm that I authorized the charge. Yet, somehow, a $3000 luxury tour in some foreign country didn’t set off any alarms? Apparently, the credit card company thought I went on some adventurous streak all of a sudden and felt no need to check up on me during my mid-life crisis. It also makes complete sense that while I was charging a luxury tour in New Zealand, I was also in Long Island at Target buying paper towels. Good work there, fraud department, you guys are really on top of your game.
As for the playground in Maryland, that charge has been approved but not posted. Therefore, I can’t dispute it, yet. It would make sense to block that purchase, but that would be expecting too much from my credit card company. No, I have to wait for the charge to post and ONLY THEN can I dispute it. So, despite the fact that I have alerted them of this fraud, they are still planning on paying it and then I have to argue to have it removed. Again, that fraud department is really working hard.
The fact that both these purchases were both out of the ordinary for my spending history in both the dollar amount and location makes me wonder. What would set of bells for the credit card company? If I tried to buy a skirt in size 2 would they call me and say, “Who are you kidding? Monica hasn’t been a size 2 EVER, you must be a fraud.” If I bought 3 pounds of asparagus, would they call and say “Fraud! You can’t be our customer, she HATES asaparagus.” If I charged a camping weekend in the woods would they cry out “No way can you be the correct credit card holder, this woman’s idea of roughing it is air drying her hair, she’d never go camping.”
All these years I have been with this same credit card company, you’d think they’d know me and my spending habits by now. In the 6 months that Joshua has been alive the only charges to my credit card have been from grocery stores and baby stores. Perhaps they thought I had some post-partum fit where I flew off to New Zealand, abandoning my husband and child, and then felt so guilty about it I bought Josh a playground? Sure, that makes sense.
After spending 3 hours on the phone with the credit card company last night, the first call, of which I am sure there will be many more for months to come, dear husband told me to look at the bright side. He told me this would be great fodder for my blog. Many months of aggravation, feeling that using a credit card is no longer safe for me, screwing up on Weight Watchers yesterday due to anxiety eating – yeah, so worth a blog honey. I am so tense right now what I really need is a nice relaxing massage. Perhaps I’ll hop a plane to Sweden, for an authentic Swedish massage. Of course, THAT would set off alarms with my credit card company. “Monica, letting someone see her naked? Never! Fraud!”
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Fear
I’m a big old chicken. I screech with fear at the sight of a bug. I clutch my car door for dear life whenever I am in a vehicle with a man at the wheel (especially my husband). I use that imaginary brake so much, I’ve worn it down, along with my husband’s patience. I find it hard to sleep at night when my husband is away on a business trip, as every noise makes me jumpy. I am scared to try, terrified to fail.
It is the last fear that stands in my way the most. There are so many things I don’t do in life because I am afraid. New food? I’m worried it may taste icky, so I don’t eat it. New hobby? I probably won’t be able to do it well and it is too hard to do so why even try? Try to become a paid writer? There are so many who fail at it, why would I succeed? Who wants to deal with all that rejection anyway?
I look at Joshua and he knows no fear. That boy leaps out of my hands, not understanding the danger of falling. He lands head first, when reaching for a toy, and hits his head which causes him to howl in pain. Yet, moments later he forgets about bumping his head when another toy catches his eye. I am in awe of my son. He is braver then I am.
My husband keeps reminding me that it’s not just about our own interests anymore. Our son is looking to us to be examples. If we show fear, he will show fear. If we don’t try, neither will he. I am determined to set a good example, so I am working on those things that I don’t like about myself.
The only failure I need to fear now, is failing to try. To quote Ms. Patti Labelle “I got a new attitude.” Negative thoughts – be gone! Blueberries beware, I am coming to taste you. Bike riding – I’ll master you yet. Publishers, meet your worst nightmare – a determined writer. Bugs, well, ok, I am still going to scream when I see you. Can’t change everything overnight.
It is the last fear that stands in my way the most. There are so many things I don’t do in life because I am afraid. New food? I’m worried it may taste icky, so I don’t eat it. New hobby? I probably won’t be able to do it well and it is too hard to do so why even try? Try to become a paid writer? There are so many who fail at it, why would I succeed? Who wants to deal with all that rejection anyway?
I look at Joshua and he knows no fear. That boy leaps out of my hands, not understanding the danger of falling. He lands head first, when reaching for a toy, and hits his head which causes him to howl in pain. Yet, moments later he forgets about bumping his head when another toy catches his eye. I am in awe of my son. He is braver then I am.
My husband keeps reminding me that it’s not just about our own interests anymore. Our son is looking to us to be examples. If we show fear, he will show fear. If we don’t try, neither will he. I am determined to set a good example, so I am working on those things that I don’t like about myself.
The only failure I need to fear now, is failing to try. To quote Ms. Patti Labelle “I got a new attitude.” Negative thoughts – be gone! Blueberries beware, I am coming to taste you. Bike riding – I’ll master you yet. Publishers, meet your worst nightmare – a determined writer. Bugs, well, ok, I am still going to scream when I see you. Can’t change everything overnight.
Monday, May 19, 2008
The ice woman cometh
Its days like these I miss being pregnant.
Pick your jaws up off the floor. I don’t miss the bloating, gas, heartburn, back discomfort or the myriad of other medical maladies that went along with being pregnant. What I do miss is having a normal body temperature. The only time I can recall ever feeling warm is when I was pregnant.
On a normal day when the people of NY are roaming the streets in shorts and t-shirts, you’ll find me dressed in long sleeves and stockings. So, when the temperatures drop, and by that I mean anything below 70 degrees, this girl is a miserable mess.
You have to understand how cold I actually get. I am the girl who moves the heat up to 80 degrees in order to be able to sleep comfortably. (Yup, I am single handedly destroying the environment, based on the articles I have read, by not leaving my home at 62 degrees.) I wear layers of clothes and socks to bed even with the heat on that high. I snuggle up to my husband just to steal some of his warmth. He knows it too, and mocks me for it.
I have tried to determine what causes me to be this cold and there is no medical explanation. Even when I add iron to my diet or exercise to improve circulation I remain as cold as ice. So, I get stares from people as I walked the streets in a jacket -- in July. I am the reason my parents and in laws never leave the air conditioning on when we visit. I own and use more blankets then should be legally allowed.
So, today, shivering, while braving the brisk winds as I ran an errand, for a fleeting moment I thought, “Gee, I wish I was pregnant again.” Apparently, the rational part of my brain needs to be defrosted now too.
Pick your jaws up off the floor. I don’t miss the bloating, gas, heartburn, back discomfort or the myriad of other medical maladies that went along with being pregnant. What I do miss is having a normal body temperature. The only time I can recall ever feeling warm is when I was pregnant.
On a normal day when the people of NY are roaming the streets in shorts and t-shirts, you’ll find me dressed in long sleeves and stockings. So, when the temperatures drop, and by that I mean anything below 70 degrees, this girl is a miserable mess.
You have to understand how cold I actually get. I am the girl who moves the heat up to 80 degrees in order to be able to sleep comfortably. (Yup, I am single handedly destroying the environment, based on the articles I have read, by not leaving my home at 62 degrees.) I wear layers of clothes and socks to bed even with the heat on that high. I snuggle up to my husband just to steal some of his warmth. He knows it too, and mocks me for it.
I have tried to determine what causes me to be this cold and there is no medical explanation. Even when I add iron to my diet or exercise to improve circulation I remain as cold as ice. So, I get stares from people as I walked the streets in a jacket -- in July. I am the reason my parents and in laws never leave the air conditioning on when we visit. I own and use more blankets then should be legally allowed.
So, today, shivering, while braving the brisk winds as I ran an errand, for a fleeting moment I thought, “Gee, I wish I was pregnant again.” Apparently, the rational part of my brain needs to be defrosted now too.
Friday, May 16, 2008
The baby, the bus driver and the wheelchair
The bus drivers, elderly and disabled of the world will probably hate me after this post but, I mean them no harm.
Yesterday, I was on the city bus alone and an old woman came on with one of those new “walkers” that has wheels and a basket. The bus driver let down the ramp and she came on and two people gave up their seats to accommodate her and the contraption. Then, three stops later, the bus driver repeated his action for a wheelchair bound passenger and this time three people had to give up their seats to accommodate him. I sat there and internally seethed. I was pissed.
Let’s rewind to when Josh was 4 weeks old. I spent the morning rushing around to get him ready for his 1 month doctor appointment. I loaded down his carriage with all the things I would need to bring for him and buckled him in to go. After 2 blocks of walking, it started to rain. While I had packed Josh’s rain gear, I had forgotten my umbrella. Luckily, I saw a bus approaching. When it was my turn to board, the bus driver said he wouldn’t let me on until I removed the baby from the carriage and folded it up.
I looked for a candid camera. He was joking right? You want me, all by myself, to carry the diaper bag, fold up my carriage, hold and support this delicate newborn and pay my fare? I waited for him to say “just kidding”, but instead heard crickets. “Sir, “ I began “I can’t possibly do that. My son is just 4 weeks old and there is no way for me to safely get him out and fold the stuff up by myself.” (Hey, I was new to this mommy game and I had no idea what I was doing at the time.) I expected for him to acquiesce and allow me to board -- remember it was raining. At the very least, I thought someone would volunteer to help me. No such luck. The bus driver replied “Well then, I guess you can’t come on,” as he shut the door and drove away.
As I walked to the doctor’s office I got wetter and angrier with each step. I was fuming by the time I got to my destination and yesterday those emotions came flooding back. Why is a baby so different then the elderly or disabled who we allow to be accommodated? It’s not like a 4 week old can walk on its own. Plus, I could have stood on the side (of what was a pretty empty) bus without having anyone sacrifice their seats. Why is there baby discrimination?
I’m sure at one time the elderly and the disabled had this problem when they needed to get on the bus, so how did they get that sticker that orders “you must give up this seat if an elderly or disabled person needs it”? I need to get a sticker like that for moms with babies. Heck, while I’m at it, I should petition for pregnant women too. Where’s that sticker? Where’s our accommodation?
I told dear husband about my pet peeve and he pointed out that I can carry a baby while the disabled can’t actually lift themselves out of their wheelchairs. I say poo on him! Technically, the bus driver COULD lift the disabled out of their chairs, fold it up, seat them and help them get back in the chair at their stop, it just wouldn’t really be fair to the disabled or convenient for the bus driver. It’s kind of like asking a new mother to fold up her carriage while balancing a newborn and all the baby’s “accessories”. Hmmmm. On second thought, maybe that’s what I should be petitioning for, making the bus drivers have to do that for every disabled rider. Maybe then they’d have some sympathy for the moms with strollers. I show mercy though, at least I am not making them stand out in the rain while doing it.
Yesterday, I was on the city bus alone and an old woman came on with one of those new “walkers” that has wheels and a basket. The bus driver let down the ramp and she came on and two people gave up their seats to accommodate her and the contraption. Then, three stops later, the bus driver repeated his action for a wheelchair bound passenger and this time three people had to give up their seats to accommodate him. I sat there and internally seethed. I was pissed.
Let’s rewind to when Josh was 4 weeks old. I spent the morning rushing around to get him ready for his 1 month doctor appointment. I loaded down his carriage with all the things I would need to bring for him and buckled him in to go. After 2 blocks of walking, it started to rain. While I had packed Josh’s rain gear, I had forgotten my umbrella. Luckily, I saw a bus approaching. When it was my turn to board, the bus driver said he wouldn’t let me on until I removed the baby from the carriage and folded it up.
I looked for a candid camera. He was joking right? You want me, all by myself, to carry the diaper bag, fold up my carriage, hold and support this delicate newborn and pay my fare? I waited for him to say “just kidding”, but instead heard crickets. “Sir, “ I began “I can’t possibly do that. My son is just 4 weeks old and there is no way for me to safely get him out and fold the stuff up by myself.” (Hey, I was new to this mommy game and I had no idea what I was doing at the time.) I expected for him to acquiesce and allow me to board -- remember it was raining. At the very least, I thought someone would volunteer to help me. No such luck. The bus driver replied “Well then, I guess you can’t come on,” as he shut the door and drove away.
As I walked to the doctor’s office I got wetter and angrier with each step. I was fuming by the time I got to my destination and yesterday those emotions came flooding back. Why is a baby so different then the elderly or disabled who we allow to be accommodated? It’s not like a 4 week old can walk on its own. Plus, I could have stood on the side (of what was a pretty empty) bus without having anyone sacrifice their seats. Why is there baby discrimination?
I’m sure at one time the elderly and the disabled had this problem when they needed to get on the bus, so how did they get that sticker that orders “you must give up this seat if an elderly or disabled person needs it”? I need to get a sticker like that for moms with babies. Heck, while I’m at it, I should petition for pregnant women too. Where’s that sticker? Where’s our accommodation?
I told dear husband about my pet peeve and he pointed out that I can carry a baby while the disabled can’t actually lift themselves out of their wheelchairs. I say poo on him! Technically, the bus driver COULD lift the disabled out of their chairs, fold it up, seat them and help them get back in the chair at their stop, it just wouldn’t really be fair to the disabled or convenient for the bus driver. It’s kind of like asking a new mother to fold up her carriage while balancing a newborn and all the baby’s “accessories”. Hmmmm. On second thought, maybe that’s what I should be petitioning for, making the bus drivers have to do that for every disabled rider. Maybe then they’d have some sympathy for the moms with strollers. I show mercy though, at least I am not making them stand out in the rain while doing it.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Sex and the mommy
I love my husband dearly. I am extremely attracted to him. However, these days if you offered me the choice of 4 hours of additional sleep, a case of Paul Newman's peanut butter cups, or a little somethin-somethin with my man, the choice would be a no brainer. This sleep deprived, Weight Watchers going mom would pick the sleep first , chocolate second and coming in last place would be the nookie.
It amazes me how much I have changed in the past couple of years. Before dear husband was in my life, chocolate would have been number one on the list. I believe I am responsible for sending hundreds of kids to Paul Newman's camp just from the charity raised from my peanut butter cup purchases. These days, those poor kids have to stay home in their apartments and miss out on a summer outdoors just because of my selfish desire to lose weight. Oh, the inhumanity!
Before Joshua was in my life, my husband and I loved spending time alone together and I would have chosen time with him over sleep any day. Before you get your knickers in a twist, don't worry, I am not going to tell you about our sex life, even I have boundaries. I will say that this is not just about the sex. The exhaustion that comes with having a kid makes sleep a more appealing option then quality time with your man.
When I went to my obgyn post-Joshua for a check up she advised me that, in her opinion, I should go on birth control to give my body time to recover from having a baby before I tried for a second child. Heck, who was she kidding? Do you know what the most effective form of birth control is? Have a baby! Trust me, with a newborn in the house you have got to be pretty high energy to even worry about getting pregnant again.
So, how do people do it? How do they balance taking care of themselves (with proper diet and sufficient sleep), taking care of their babies and taking care of their marriages? I still haven't figured it out, but I'll keep trying. In the meantime, tell my husband to hit the snooze button on the alarm and wake me when my chocolate has no calories/points. Dear husband, the day that happens, trust me I'll be well rested and in such a state of euphoria that you are sure to get lucky.
It amazes me how much I have changed in the past couple of years. Before dear husband was in my life, chocolate would have been number one on the list. I believe I am responsible for sending hundreds of kids to Paul Newman's camp just from the charity raised from my peanut butter cup purchases. These days, those poor kids have to stay home in their apartments and miss out on a summer outdoors just because of my selfish desire to lose weight. Oh, the inhumanity!
Before Joshua was in my life, my husband and I loved spending time alone together and I would have chosen time with him over sleep any day. Before you get your knickers in a twist, don't worry, I am not going to tell you about our sex life, even I have boundaries. I will say that this is not just about the sex. The exhaustion that comes with having a kid makes sleep a more appealing option then quality time with your man.
When I went to my obgyn post-Joshua for a check up she advised me that, in her opinion, I should go on birth control to give my body time to recover from having a baby before I tried for a second child. Heck, who was she kidding? Do you know what the most effective form of birth control is? Have a baby! Trust me, with a newborn in the house you have got to be pretty high energy to even worry about getting pregnant again.
So, how do people do it? How do they balance taking care of themselves (with proper diet and sufficient sleep), taking care of their babies and taking care of their marriages? I still haven't figured it out, but I'll keep trying. In the meantime, tell my husband to hit the snooze button on the alarm and wake me when my chocolate has no calories/points. Dear husband, the day that happens, trust me I'll be well rested and in such a state of euphoria that you are sure to get lucky.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Party Pooped
Whenever I try to do something nice and it blows up in my face, my husband has a mantra he repeats, “no good deed goes unpunished.” I always thought it was such a negative, cynical viewpoint but I am starting to see that he speaks the truth.
I am involved in planning two parties in a very short span of time. The motivation for my being involved in planning both these parties is my desire to make the guests of honor feel special and loved. Have you ever tried to plan a party with other people’s involvement? The date is never right, the time is never convenient, the place is too small and the food isn’t good enough.
Then, there is the battle of getting people to RSVP. You get a lot of “non-committal” replies. The: “I’ll try and stop by, but I can’t promise anything.” There is also the chasing down of the non-repliers. So many people think a party just magically appears with enough food to accommodate them, even if they never actually tell you they will be attending. Finally, there are the “last minute” repliers. They call you on the day of the party and let you know they will be coming. Thanks for that heads up buddy, it gives me a chance to roll out the red carpet for you. Would you like trumpets to announce your arrival too?
It is amazing that such a happy occasion can lead me to become so angry and vitriolic in my feelings. It’s a party! I should be laughing, happy, filled with anticipation, eager to see how pleased the guest of honors will be when feted by their friends. Instead, I become a grumbling, bitter, overwhelmed person who snaps at the 6th person who says “Are you sure Sunday at noon is the best time for a barbeque? Listen, if you think you can plan this better, why don’t you step up to the plate and do it yourself? Funny, the ones who complain to me are generally the last people to volunteer to help me with anything.
However, the day of the party will roll around and people will have a great time. The guests of honor will be so thrilled at the gesture and suddenly it all seems worth it. Looking at their smiling faces, you think, “This is what I did it for, that joy that comes from making someone else happy.” You forget all about the struggles you faced to get to this point and you think, “I guess maybe I overreacted about the difficulties after all.” That is until someone complains that the soda is too warm, another that you don’t have enough ice and yet another that the chicken is too cold.
Josh’s first birthday is in about 6 months and, with how I am feeling about parties these days, maybe we’ll just buy him a pony.
I am involved in planning two parties in a very short span of time. The motivation for my being involved in planning both these parties is my desire to make the guests of honor feel special and loved. Have you ever tried to plan a party with other people’s involvement? The date is never right, the time is never convenient, the place is too small and the food isn’t good enough.
Then, there is the battle of getting people to RSVP. You get a lot of “non-committal” replies. The: “I’ll try and stop by, but I can’t promise anything.” There is also the chasing down of the non-repliers. So many people think a party just magically appears with enough food to accommodate them, even if they never actually tell you they will be attending. Finally, there are the “last minute” repliers. They call you on the day of the party and let you know they will be coming. Thanks for that heads up buddy, it gives me a chance to roll out the red carpet for you. Would you like trumpets to announce your arrival too?
It is amazing that such a happy occasion can lead me to become so angry and vitriolic in my feelings. It’s a party! I should be laughing, happy, filled with anticipation, eager to see how pleased the guest of honors will be when feted by their friends. Instead, I become a grumbling, bitter, overwhelmed person who snaps at the 6th person who says “Are you sure Sunday at noon is the best time for a barbeque? Listen, if you think you can plan this better, why don’t you step up to the plate and do it yourself? Funny, the ones who complain to me are generally the last people to volunteer to help me with anything.
However, the day of the party will roll around and people will have a great time. The guests of honor will be so thrilled at the gesture and suddenly it all seems worth it. Looking at their smiling faces, you think, “This is what I did it for, that joy that comes from making someone else happy.” You forget all about the struggles you faced to get to this point and you think, “I guess maybe I overreacted about the difficulties after all.” That is until someone complains that the soda is too warm, another that you don’t have enough ice and yet another that the chicken is too cold.
Josh’s first birthday is in about 6 months and, with how I am feeling about parties these days, maybe we’ll just buy him a pony.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Neurotic
My husband quotes a friend of his who say “The definition of neurotic is: you know 1+1= 2 but you just can’t stand it.” By that definition, look up neurotic in the dictionary and there will be a BIG frowning picture of me.
I am temporarily working from home and I hate it. No, the working from home doesn’t bother me, it is the temporary part. So, I have begun searching for ways to earn money from home without much success.
First, there are the websites that promise you can make up to $5,000 a week working from the comfort of your own home for just one hour a day! “I never knew stuffing envelopes was that lucrative,” I thought as I scrolled down the screen to read more. As I get to the end of the page, I am told that all the secrets to fast money, working from home, can be mine for just $99.95. I just figured out how that website owner makes their money.
Then there is the independent sales people pitch. You know them, they want you to sell cosmetics, cleaning products, nutritional supplements, etc. They are all eager to sign you up. They almost seem like robots in the lingo they spout. The scripts are almost identical regardless of the product they are trying to get you to distribute. If you scratch the surface you find out that, for them to make real money, you need to sell for them too. Then, if you want to make money too, you need to rope in some other poor sap. In most cases you find that, when you are done with this money making plan, you have just bought yourself $300 worth of vitamins.
Then there are the well meaning friends. They say: “You should try medical transcription/data entry/customer service, you can do that from home.” “Really?” I answer. “How would I do that?” “I’m not sure, but I bet there is information online.” is always their reply. When I go online, I find out that, once again, the secrets to these jobs can be mine for ONLY $49.95. This guy has got to get with the program, the other websites are charging $99.95, how does this website owner expect to feed his family with these ridiculously low prices?
I’ll keep searching for a legitimate way to earn money and work from home but if I haven’t found one by the end of my temporary contract, I’ll have a choice to make. Do I return to the office, the arduous commute to work and the shortened time with my son or do I quit my job? Being a one income household will mean we will have to cut down on those “extravagances” like bottled water and our weekly Sunday take-out ritual. Yes, with no cable, no fancy vacations, that’s what we “waste” our money on now.
The problem is, that neither solution works for me. Will I be happy struggling for money? No. Will I be happy missing out on playing with Josh? The thought makes me weepy as I write it. However, if I don’t find another answer I will have to make a choice and I hate that! What other reaction did you expect from a neurotic mom like me?
I am temporarily working from home and I hate it. No, the working from home doesn’t bother me, it is the temporary part. So, I have begun searching for ways to earn money from home without much success.
First, there are the websites that promise you can make up to $5,000 a week working from the comfort of your own home for just one hour a day! “I never knew stuffing envelopes was that lucrative,” I thought as I scrolled down the screen to read more. As I get to the end of the page, I am told that all the secrets to fast money, working from home, can be mine for just $99.95. I just figured out how that website owner makes their money.
Then there is the independent sales people pitch. You know them, they want you to sell cosmetics, cleaning products, nutritional supplements, etc. They are all eager to sign you up. They almost seem like robots in the lingo they spout. The scripts are almost identical regardless of the product they are trying to get you to distribute. If you scratch the surface you find out that, for them to make real money, you need to sell for them too. Then, if you want to make money too, you need to rope in some other poor sap. In most cases you find that, when you are done with this money making plan, you have just bought yourself $300 worth of vitamins.
Then there are the well meaning friends. They say: “You should try medical transcription/data entry/customer service, you can do that from home.” “Really?” I answer. “How would I do that?” “I’m not sure, but I bet there is information online.” is always their reply. When I go online, I find out that, once again, the secrets to these jobs can be mine for ONLY $49.95. This guy has got to get with the program, the other websites are charging $99.95, how does this website owner expect to feed his family with these ridiculously low prices?
I’ll keep searching for a legitimate way to earn money and work from home but if I haven’t found one by the end of my temporary contract, I’ll have a choice to make. Do I return to the office, the arduous commute to work and the shortened time with my son or do I quit my job? Being a one income household will mean we will have to cut down on those “extravagances” like bottled water and our weekly Sunday take-out ritual. Yes, with no cable, no fancy vacations, that’s what we “waste” our money on now.
The problem is, that neither solution works for me. Will I be happy struggling for money? No. Will I be happy missing out on playing with Josh? The thought makes me weepy as I write it. However, if I don’t find another answer I will have to make a choice and I hate that! What other reaction did you expect from a neurotic mom like me?
Monday, May 12, 2008
Leaving the house with pee-pee on my skirt
Yesterday, was mother’s day, my first, and it was jam packed with family, food and frustration. I awoke to cards from the husband and my boy. Josh has also apparently mastered his online shopping skills because he bought me a lovely locket from an online merchant. I knew that boy was gifted! (No pun intended.)
A good friend called me in the morning to wish me happy mother’s day and she ordered my husband to treat me like royalty. My husband said “Snow White was royalty and she still had to work for seven dwarves.” If I am Snow white in this analogy is my husband a dwarf? Funny that he’d do a short joke about himself.
Another friend warned me that mother’s day wasn’t REALLY about me, that it was about the grandmothers and when I became a grandmother myself, that’s when I’d enjoy the “holiday”. Well, after running from one end of the state of NY to the other to see both sides of the family AND grocery shopping plus shopping for the baby in between, I have to say, I agree.
At some point during the day somebody asked me if, now that I celebrated my first mothers day, I felt like it was “official” that I was a mom now. I didn’t even hesitate when I said no. See, I felt like an “official” mom months ago. I remember the moment very clearly when I knew I was a mom and everything really had changed.
It was a busy morning, Josh had been extremely fussy and wouldn’t let me put him down without wailing like a fire truck. My clothes were half on for most of the morning and I was starving. I finished getting dressed, packed Josh’s diaper bag, forgot about the idea that I MIGHT have a chance to finally blow dry my hair and then proceeded to dress Josh. As I was changing his diaper, the fountain went off and a stream of pee went all over my skirt. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was already running late and really had no time to change. I waffled about what to do and I made my decision. I finished dressing Josh, put on my coat and left the house. I left the house with pee all over my skirt.
As I wheeled Josh’s carriage outside on a brisk winter day, thinking about the pee on my skirt, I couldn’t believe what I had done. If I noticed a stain on my skirt in the past, it was off with that skirt on with a new one. Since that “pee skirt” day, I’ve left the house with with pee, formula, mushed carrots and god knows what else on my clothes without a second thought. So, no, mother’s day didn’t make me feel like an official mom. A lot of pee-pee on a new skirt did the trick a long time ago. It’s OK, I didn’t like the skirt that much anyway.
Happy Mothers Day to all the moms out there!
A good friend called me in the morning to wish me happy mother’s day and she ordered my husband to treat me like royalty. My husband said “Snow White was royalty and she still had to work for seven dwarves.” If I am Snow white in this analogy is my husband a dwarf? Funny that he’d do a short joke about himself.
Another friend warned me that mother’s day wasn’t REALLY about me, that it was about the grandmothers and when I became a grandmother myself, that’s when I’d enjoy the “holiday”. Well, after running from one end of the state of NY to the other to see both sides of the family AND grocery shopping plus shopping for the baby in between, I have to say, I agree.
At some point during the day somebody asked me if, now that I celebrated my first mothers day, I felt like it was “official” that I was a mom now. I didn’t even hesitate when I said no. See, I felt like an “official” mom months ago. I remember the moment very clearly when I knew I was a mom and everything really had changed.
It was a busy morning, Josh had been extremely fussy and wouldn’t let me put him down without wailing like a fire truck. My clothes were half on for most of the morning and I was starving. I finished getting dressed, packed Josh’s diaper bag, forgot about the idea that I MIGHT have a chance to finally blow dry my hair and then proceeded to dress Josh. As I was changing his diaper, the fountain went off and a stream of pee went all over my skirt. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I was already running late and really had no time to change. I waffled about what to do and I made my decision. I finished dressing Josh, put on my coat and left the house. I left the house with pee all over my skirt.
As I wheeled Josh’s carriage outside on a brisk winter day, thinking about the pee on my skirt, I couldn’t believe what I had done. If I noticed a stain on my skirt in the past, it was off with that skirt on with a new one. Since that “pee skirt” day, I’ve left the house with with pee, formula, mushed carrots and god knows what else on my clothes without a second thought. So, no, mother’s day didn’t make me feel like an official mom. A lot of pee-pee on a new skirt did the trick a long time ago. It’s OK, I didn’t like the skirt that much anyway.
Happy Mothers Day to all the moms out there!
Friday, May 9, 2008
Dr. P, the Skinny Cow is making a comeback!
So, a couple of days ago, I went to the doctor for “routine maintenance” and part of the drill is being weighed. Now, I knew the number would not be one I was happy to see but NEVER in my wildest dreams did I think it would be THAT high. I haven’t been this heavy in over 10 years!
When you watch those shows like Jerry Springer, (Come on, admit it, you’ve caught yourself watching it, much as you would an accident on the side of a highway) and you see those 600 pound people who need to be cut out of their house, you wonder, how they didn’t notice. I kind of get in now.
Most days, I wake up and think “nothing in my closet fits, I am sooooo fat.” However, there are days I wake up in the morning, put on something that I actually feel like I look pretty good in. On those days, I don’t even notice the weight gain at all. Delusional? Perhaps. However, those moments, where I think nothing has changed about my body, have “fed” my continuing to eat poorly. If I can still fit into any of my pre-pregnancy skirts, even if it IS cutting off my circulation, I must still be the same weight, right?
Well, seeing that number shattered any illusions I had. I am not the same weight I was pre- Joshua and, while he was worth every pound gained, he deserves a healthy mommy.
So, I am back on Weight Watchers. There are fruits and vegetables in my fridge and my freezer is now full with my WW staples of Dr. Praeger’s pizza bagels and fish. When I was on WW before having Josh, Dr. Praeger’s items were a HUGE part in my success in dropping my excess weight. It allowed me to eat “nosh” in a points friendly way. Yes, I still had my veggies, water and all that healthy stuff but this made me feel like I was “cheating” when I was following all the rules
Another item I discovered on WW was Skinny Cow ice-cream sandwiches. They remind me of the flying saucers I had in Carvel when I was a kid. I bought them so frequently the last time I was on WW that my husband starting calling me (affectionately) his “skinny cow”. Yes, when I write it down here, it doesn’t sound too good, but trust me, it was very sweet.
So, it is day 3 for me on WW and so far, so good. While last week, I would have been baking chocolate chip cookies for shabbos, this week I bought some grapes instead. Yay me! I may be slow to make a move but, once I do, I am pretty good at keeping on track. So, my dear husband, leave a light on, cause your skinny cow is heading home.
When you watch those shows like Jerry Springer, (Come on, admit it, you’ve caught yourself watching it, much as you would an accident on the side of a highway) and you see those 600 pound people who need to be cut out of their house, you wonder, how they didn’t notice. I kind of get in now.
Most days, I wake up and think “nothing in my closet fits, I am sooooo fat.” However, there are days I wake up in the morning, put on something that I actually feel like I look pretty good in. On those days, I don’t even notice the weight gain at all. Delusional? Perhaps. However, those moments, where I think nothing has changed about my body, have “fed” my continuing to eat poorly. If I can still fit into any of my pre-pregnancy skirts, even if it IS cutting off my circulation, I must still be the same weight, right?
Well, seeing that number shattered any illusions I had. I am not the same weight I was pre- Joshua and, while he was worth every pound gained, he deserves a healthy mommy.
So, I am back on Weight Watchers. There are fruits and vegetables in my fridge and my freezer is now full with my WW staples of Dr. Praeger’s pizza bagels and fish. When I was on WW before having Josh, Dr. Praeger’s items were a HUGE part in my success in dropping my excess weight. It allowed me to eat “nosh” in a points friendly way. Yes, I still had my veggies, water and all that healthy stuff but this made me feel like I was “cheating” when I was following all the rules
Another item I discovered on WW was Skinny Cow ice-cream sandwiches. They remind me of the flying saucers I had in Carvel when I was a kid. I bought them so frequently the last time I was on WW that my husband starting calling me (affectionately) his “skinny cow”. Yes, when I write it down here, it doesn’t sound too good, but trust me, it was very sweet.
So, it is day 3 for me on WW and so far, so good. While last week, I would have been baking chocolate chip cookies for shabbos, this week I bought some grapes instead. Yay me! I may be slow to make a move but, once I do, I am pretty good at keeping on track. So, my dear husband, leave a light on, cause your skinny cow is heading home.
Thursday, May 8, 2008
I am an Entertainment Weekly Pop Culture Quiz Failure
I have failed. It is difficult to admit this, but perhaps there is something I can learn from this experience.
I am a couple of weeks (OK, months) behind on my magazine reading - that is not baby related. So, I just took a quiz in Entertainment Weekly about all the stuff that is hip and now. I was horrified to discover that my knowledge of today’s pop culture has woefully diminished. Can you believe it? Me, the “go to girl” for pop culture references. Even those things I didn’t watch or see in the past, I at least read about so I could speak about knowledgably. These days I can tell you more about what line of diapers are best then explain why Mariah Carey married Nick Cannon after a whirlwind 6 week courtship.
I don’t know when I went from choosing to buy US Weekly and People on a routine basis to choosing Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal from the magazine stands. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my Entertainment Weekly subscription and I am a frequent visitor to People.com and TMZ, but I find myself reading Parenting before I do any of my entertainment magazines.
I am not the first person to fall so far from greatness, but, nevertheless, it hits me hard. When a friend referenced David Archuleta the other night and she further explained he was a contestant on American Idol this season, I pretended to know exactly who she was talking about, but inside, I knew I was a fraud.
How could something that took up so much of my free time have become so backburner? Well, take a look at the face in the picture on this blog. Getting that kid to burp so he feels better has become more of an accomplishment to me now then naming all the winners of Dancing with the Stars.
I read on some gossip website that said Nicole Richie was asking her friends “Am I still fun now that I had the baby?” Whether the story is true or not, I relate. I feel like all my stories, every fiber of my being now is all about my son. The things that brought me pleasure before still do but, not half as much as watching that boy’s face light up with a smile. So I ask myself, when all I can seem to do is talk about all things baby related, am I still fun now?
Perhaps there is a way to combine my old passion with my new one. Maybe there is a way to make me hip and fun again while still focusing on my son. Do you think Nicole Richie, Christina Aguilera, Halle Berry & Jennifer Lopez would be interested in joining my new mommies playgroup?
I am a couple of weeks (OK, months) behind on my magazine reading - that is not baby related. So, I just took a quiz in Entertainment Weekly about all the stuff that is hip and now. I was horrified to discover that my knowledge of today’s pop culture has woefully diminished. Can you believe it? Me, the “go to girl” for pop culture references. Even those things I didn’t watch or see in the past, I at least read about so I could speak about knowledgably. These days I can tell you more about what line of diapers are best then explain why Mariah Carey married Nick Cannon after a whirlwind 6 week courtship.
I don’t know when I went from choosing to buy US Weekly and People on a routine basis to choosing Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal from the magazine stands. Don’t get me wrong, I still have my Entertainment Weekly subscription and I am a frequent visitor to People.com and TMZ, but I find myself reading Parenting before I do any of my entertainment magazines.
I am not the first person to fall so far from greatness, but, nevertheless, it hits me hard. When a friend referenced David Archuleta the other night and she further explained he was a contestant on American Idol this season, I pretended to know exactly who she was talking about, but inside, I knew I was a fraud.
How could something that took up so much of my free time have become so backburner? Well, take a look at the face in the picture on this blog. Getting that kid to burp so he feels better has become more of an accomplishment to me now then naming all the winners of Dancing with the Stars.
I read on some gossip website that said Nicole Richie was asking her friends “Am I still fun now that I had the baby?” Whether the story is true or not, I relate. I feel like all my stories, every fiber of my being now is all about my son. The things that brought me pleasure before still do but, not half as much as watching that boy’s face light up with a smile. So I ask myself, when all I can seem to do is talk about all things baby related, am I still fun now?
Perhaps there is a way to combine my old passion with my new one. Maybe there is a way to make me hip and fun again while still focusing on my son. Do you think Nicole Richie, Christina Aguilera, Halle Berry & Jennifer Lopez would be interested in joining my new mommies playgroup?
Monday, May 5, 2008
Other moms lie
As a first time mom I am starting a revolution. I tell the truth, I sing it loud and proud, although I try to do it with a sense of humor.
Before the birth of our son, all I heard about was how wonderful parenthood is, how having a child is the most amazing experience in the world. While I don't dispute that, it is also the most challenging thing you will ever do. I would throw myself in front of a bus for my little guy, but there are times I'd like to get on that bus and head straight to a spa for a week while leaving him home with his dad. I love my husband more than I ever thought possible, my heart swells with love when I see him playing with our little guy. Yet, I also think "who is this man and why did I marry him?", when he hands our son off to me to change yet another poopie diaper.
To those moms who said to me, and continue to say, that their newborn sleeps through the night, never cries, breastfeeds perfectly AND that their husbands are perfect helpers who pitch in without even being asked -- I say yeah, right. Either you live in some strange utopian universe where babies and husbands are perfect angels, or you are lying to me. I say, fess up.
You are not a bad mom if you don't produce enough milk and need to formula feed. You are not a bad mom if you wish you could just have that life back where you could get out of the house in 5 minutes instead of five hours. You are normal. You are everymom.
You are not a bad wife if you fantasize leaving your husband at home for a week all alone with the baby to see if he breaks down crying with joy upon your return, suddenly really understanding how overwhelmed you feel. You are not a bad wife if you miss "dating" your husband but, when you have the opportunity or a babysitter that allows you some alone time with your man, you'd rather just take a nap. You are normal. You are everymom.
All that being said....I am blessed to have a happy, healthy and well adjusted baby, even if he refuses to roll over yet like all the other mommies of babies his age say their kids do. (I think that means he's smarter than the other babies, why roll over when you can have mommy do it for you?) I am doubly blessed to have a husband who, despite long hours in the office, helps a lot around the house and with the baby when I ask him. (Even if he folds the laundry in a way that creates the maximum wrinkles possible..how does he do it?) However, at 4 months old, my son has yet to learn how to cook and bring me breakfast in bed. Based on what I hear from the other moms, their babies did that at 5 months old. I can smell the pancakes already.
* Disclaimer, this is a reprint of a blog I posted on another site when my son was 4 months old, he is now 6 months old :)
Before the birth of our son, all I heard about was how wonderful parenthood is, how having a child is the most amazing experience in the world. While I don't dispute that, it is also the most challenging thing you will ever do. I would throw myself in front of a bus for my little guy, but there are times I'd like to get on that bus and head straight to a spa for a week while leaving him home with his dad. I love my husband more than I ever thought possible, my heart swells with love when I see him playing with our little guy. Yet, I also think "who is this man and why did I marry him?", when he hands our son off to me to change yet another poopie diaper.
To those moms who said to me, and continue to say, that their newborn sleeps through the night, never cries, breastfeeds perfectly AND that their husbands are perfect helpers who pitch in without even being asked -- I say yeah, right. Either you live in some strange utopian universe where babies and husbands are perfect angels, or you are lying to me. I say, fess up.
You are not a bad mom if you don't produce enough milk and need to formula feed. You are not a bad mom if you wish you could just have that life back where you could get out of the house in 5 minutes instead of five hours. You are normal. You are everymom.
You are not a bad wife if you fantasize leaving your husband at home for a week all alone with the baby to see if he breaks down crying with joy upon your return, suddenly really understanding how overwhelmed you feel. You are not a bad wife if you miss "dating" your husband but, when you have the opportunity or a babysitter that allows you some alone time with your man, you'd rather just take a nap. You are normal. You are everymom.
All that being said....I am blessed to have a happy, healthy and well adjusted baby, even if he refuses to roll over yet like all the other mommies of babies his age say their kids do. (I think that means he's smarter than the other babies, why roll over when you can have mommy do it for you?) I am doubly blessed to have a husband who, despite long hours in the office, helps a lot around the house and with the baby when I ask him. (Even if he folds the laundry in a way that creates the maximum wrinkles possible..how does he do it?) However, at 4 months old, my son has yet to learn how to cook and bring me breakfast in bed. Based on what I hear from the other moms, their babies did that at 5 months old. I can smell the pancakes already.
* Disclaimer, this is a reprint of a blog I posted on another site when my son was 4 months old, he is now 6 months old :)
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