the elephant in the room

Hello, all who take the time to read my blog posts...it's been awhile!

First, I should answer the question, "Why now?" Why am I writing after nearly two years of silence? Well, blame it on the New Year. Instead of yearlong resolutions, I have set monthly goals. And one of my January goals is committing to pleasure writing three times this month. And this, my friends, is my pleasure writing.

Next, what's the elephant in the room? Well, it's me. The person who had weightloss surgery, shared my weightloss journey, and then sneakily avoided sharing the painful reality of my significant weight regain. As I return to this blog, I feel the need to return to the transparency of my journey, even when my experience is difficult to face and even harder to openly share.

I honestly don't have adequate words to describe how happy I was when I had lost nearly half of my body weight. I could look at my reflection in the mirror with happiness instead of the disdain I had grown accustomed to. I could see strength and beauty in my body in a way that I never had before. And I had achieved this by fully focusing on making ME first and doing everything I could to make me the best/smallest/strongest person that I could be.

But then things started slipping. I started working (which fulfilled gaps in my life that I hadn't even realized were there), Jerry's job demanded so much of his time, and life through some significanat stressors my way. So bad habits snuck back into my life. I found myself relying heavily on wine to relax at the end of each day and to quiet my overactive brain to let me sleep. I responded to anxiety with snacks that I could eat without feeling full, just adding calories and pounds.

Through a series of strange events, our military trajectory changed considerably and we relocated to Fort Polk, LA at the end of August. Fort Polk returned considerable family time to our life, which was a welcome change. But the remoteness of this location is taking an emotional toll. We knew that it would be remote, but I don't think any of us were really prepared for how difficult that would be for us. I joke about the closest Target being an hour away (which is 100% true), but joking is the only way to try to handle the extreme feelings of isolation. And, unfortunately, this isolation does not naturally inspire or motivate me to make positive changes.

So...back to the weightgain and becoming the elephant in the room. I have gained so much weight that I'm pretty much at my pre-surgery weight. Not my highest weight, mind you. But at a weight that essentially negates having surgery in the first place. And that has sent my mind spinning in two divergent directions. On bad days, I feel like a colossal failure. I thought that surgery would give me a chance, finally, to succeed. Yet here I am, fat again. Even with a tool that was designed to make me succeed. Which makes my failure seem even greater that it did before surgery. On good days, I see that many people who have been 'successful' with weightloss surgery have replaced one addiction with another and now obsess over maintaining a rigorous exercise schedule and an extremely restrictive diet that really don't seem sustainable for me over time. On these days, I shift my focus to loving myself regardless of size, accepting that I am not meant to be extremely small, and making a commitment to healthy habits that are not tied to a number on the scale.

So here I sit at the beginning of 2019, trying to navigate my way into a healthy life of self-love and self-care. I'm beginning to think my journey is not really about losing weight, but learning to love myself in the skin that I'm in throughout my journey, rather than loving an idea of myself at the end of the journey. That is not to say that I am not committed to always striving to be a better and healthier person; I just won't pin my own self-worth on my size. I want my children to see a mom who never gives up on herself, who falls down but gets back up again, and who never stops trying to make choices to live a healthier and happier life. I don't want my kids to grow up seeing a mom that is always trying to lose weight. To that end, zero of my goals that I set this year will involve losing weight. I suspect that will happen as a side effect of achieving my other goals, but it will never be the objective.

I feel particularly compelled to set the stage for my children, to give them an example of self-love and self-care. I encourage them to celebrate their own bodies and need to do a better job at celebrating my own.

So my January goals include achieving daily step and activity goals, reading and writing for pleasure, keeping up with my memory planner, enjoying a bubble bath once a week, reducing the amount of wine that I drink, and exploring some healthier eating strategies.

That's all for now. Thank you for letting me share my journey with you.

freedom?

The struggle of mom emotions seems to be what weighs most heavily on me at this point in my life and my recent string of blog posts definitely reflects that. Today is no exception. For the first time in a very long time (literally months), I am out by myself.  I am leisurely enjoying my iced skinny caramel macchiato at Starbucks, surfing the internet, doing some reading and writing this post.  Without my kids.  And it's awesome.  But I'd be lying if I said it was completely awesome.  Because the awesome is mixed with a little of that ever-present mom guilt. And I'm surprised to feel a touch of sadness as well.  Who knew the complexity of emotions that could be stirred by a simple morning alone? I certainly didn't!

For months, I have been saying that I wanted to take a couple of hours to myself on a weekend that Jerry didn't have duty.  And for months, weekends have come and gone and I didn't get (didn't take?) my two hours of freedom.  Finally, this weekend, we made it happen. 

Part of the reason that this hasn't happened is that I feel guilty for leaving the kiddos.  Which is ridiculous!  I am with them all the time.  But still, I feel guilt.  It's not as much guilt for leaving them, but it's the guilt for wanting to leave them.  I somehow feel like it's my mom duty to want to spend every waking minute with them.  Which is, again, ridiculous!  And while my head knows that it is good and healthy to have time to myself, that nagging guilt persists.

Today, I set the guilt aside and took the plunge.  I left the house without the kids.  And it felt strange. The short car ride was just so quiet.  During the hours my kids are awake, I don't think that there is ever more than a couple of seconds of silence. It was equally strange walking into the store without a small hand to hold.  And it was weird to walk up to place my order without first having a discussion/argument about the purchase of sweet treats.  And as much as I had been looking forward to exactly those things, it also made me a little sad.

With my coffee beverage in hand, I chose a table in the sun.  I set up my little work/relaxation station on the table and sat down, enjoying the feeling of the warm sun on my back. Yet it all felt a little empty.  This is the freedom I've been craving?!

But as I sat here, letting the sun work its magic, without any pressing tasks and without the constant chatter of little voices, I felt myself relaxing.  I almost didn't recognize the feeling, because it's been so long since I've felt this calm. And I realize how much I miss this.  And how important it is to make time for this.  It's worth it to wrestle my way through all of the guilt and sadness to find the calm.  And I know that it will make me a better and more patient mom...yet another reason to work at getting rid of that guilt!

I still have a little bit of time before I'm due to head back to the family.  So I'm going to stop writing and do some reading for pleasure...I honestly can't remember the last time that I did that!

Mom friends, please put aside your guilt and your excuses and make time for you!  You deserve it!

do you know that you are very strong?

As a parent, I fuck up a lot.  Whether it's yelling too much, forgetting to pack a snack for school or setting a bad example, I do my fair share of fucking up. This week, I even had the audacity to sing You Are My Sunshine to Amelie.  She vehemently let me know that she is NOT my sunshine!

BUT. There are times that the kids do or say things that make me feel like I'm doing something right after all.

One of our favorite books is "The Monster at the End of this Book".  It started out as a favorite book of mine.  A book that was read to me as a child and whose illustrations and hilarious story have stuck with me all these years. It gives me such great and pure joy to share this treasure with my own kids, complete with a silly Grover voice (which probably sounds nothing like Grover!).  And the kids adore it too, gracing me with huge smiles and belly laughs at every single reading.

Without fail, my kids answer a question posed on one of the pages. When I, in my best Grover voice, ask "Do you know that you are very strong?", both James and Amelie earnestly declare 'Yes, I am very strong!' It's a rhetorical question, so the first time they answered caught me by surprise. But every single time, it fills my heart with joy and pride.  I love seeing their confidence and certainty that they are strong.  And, although, it's a little thing, I think that it speaks volumes when young kids feel strong and powerful and are comfortable expressing that confidence.  And I don't think it's too much of a stretch to take a little bit of credit for that confidence. I love that we are able to share in the love of reading as a family and that the kids are able to smile and laugh along with the story and come away with a little boost of confidence.

Yes, James and Amelie, you are very strong!

...because I'm so fat

The other day, Amelie and I went to the PX to run a few errands.  For those of you aren't familiar with military life or haven't watched enough episodes of Army Wives, the PX is the Post Exchange, basically a small department store on post. I have always talked a lot to/with both kids, from the time they were born.  Not baby talk, but basically narrating everything that I'm doing.  I think it helps build a strong linguistic foundation for them. And it helps me feel connected to actual human beings when my days are spent almost entirely without adult interaction.

Well.  We were at the PX and I found a dress in the juniors department that was just adorable.  I looked at a size large and said, out loud, that it was adorable and that I didn't think that it would fit because I'm so fat.

And I immediately regretted voicing that.  I worry about becoming the voice in Amelie's head that she's too fat.  I have a temper and more often than I'd like to admit, I lose it and yell at the kids.  And I always feel terrible after I've done that and immediately apologize for my actions. This felt even worse.

Honestly, that adorable dress wasn't going to fit.  Not because I was so fat, but because it was not the right size for my body.  I am overweight and I there's plenty of room for me to make better food choices and to exercise more.  But I don't need to beat myself up about my body.  And I certainly don't need my daughter to witness it.  This body is so much more than its jiggly belly and chunky thighs.  This body is strong.  It has created, carried and delivered life.  It provides comfort to my children through hugs, snuggles and kisses.  It tends to boo boos.  It plays games.  It walks and runs and swims. It dance and sings.  It smiles and it laughs.

I want this beautiful girl to grow up feeling proud of her body and all that it does and can do.  Of course, I also want her to be healthy and active. But I never want her to beat herself up or feel shame about her body when it's not at its best. And I certainly don't want to be the voice that she hears if she has negative feelings about herself.  I want to build her up and lift her up. And I want to live by example.  I want her to see a mom that is active. A mom that tries to make healthy food choices, but that still enjoys treats on occasion. A mom that struggles but keeps trying. We both deserve that.

when life gives you lemons...

...you make limoncello! That's the saying, right?!

Duty weeks are pretty tough on this Momma.  At least once a month, Jerry is the Duty Platoon Sergeant, which means he works on Saturday and Sunday. And I can expect that he will be home after 8:00pm every day that week, from Saturday through the following Friday. So I pretty much have no break from parenting for twelve days straight.  To be fair, at the same time Jerry has no break from work for twelve days straight.  So it's generally a not-fun time for both of us. And unfortunately, it's not too surprising that the exhaustion and stress don't go unnoticed by the kiddos.

Yesterday, I got it right.  I made that limoncello!

It certainly helped that it was a gorgeous day.  It's so much easier to make boozey lemony drinks when the sun is shining! And, like all good days, we started at 'the coffee store'.  I'm much more likely to be Fun Momma if I'm sufficiently caffeinated!  After our trip to Starbucks, armed with an iced skinny caramel macchiato (in a reusable cup, of course!), we headed to James' soccer practice. After missing last week's practices because of strep throat, it was great to see James running around, learning new skills and having fun.  Meanwhile, Amelie and I were able to enjoy the company of other moms and siblings on the the sidelines as we played and picnicked. James was super excited when he was issued his brand new jersey and got to wear it in a scrimmage with another team practicing at the same time.

After all that hard work, I thought James could use a little reward and I suggested we go somewhere fun.  Amelie nominated 'the cornhole place', but I told her that we wouldn't want to go to the brewery without Daddy :-) Instead, I suggested Chik Fil A, more commonly known as 'Chicken Playground' in our house.  And from that point on, we managed to strike the perfect balance of kid fun and Momma productivity. While the kiddos had tons of fun eating chicken nuggets and waffle fries and playing their hearts out in the play area, I had time to do some proofreading for Mom2Mom.  And proofreading is both productive AND fun for me!

We spent a solid chunk of time at the Chicken Playground and then headed to Best Buy to run in and grab a printer that I had ordered.  Especially when I'm parenting alone, I'm a huge fan of store pick-up options! In and out in under five minutes with minimal offspring wrangling...yes!  Then we headed into 'The Red Circle Store' to check out the toy section row by row, pick up some hangers (my boring errand) and stock up on supplies for making ice cream sundaes!  The kids were anxious to get home and get right to work on sundae building!

But after all the running around, Amelie crashed minutes before we pulled back into the driveway.  Literally minutes. So while she snoozed James got to have some more playing time outside and then he helped me set up the new printer.

Once Amelie was awake, operation Sundaes Before Dinner commenced and soon the kids were enjoying their creations. The flavor combinations were pretty impressive, with each kid having a mixture of vanilla, cotton candy, and peanut butter M&M ice creams!  Topped with Skittles and both sweet and sour gummy worms. James really went to town by adding whipped cream and chocolate syrup too. Kinda made me a bit sick just looking at it, but they excitedly wolfed down their sundaes!  It was extra special because they were able to enjoy their sweet treats in the living room (ooooh!) while watching television. Dessert was followed by a dinner of chicken nuggets (both regular and dinosaur shaped) and curly fries.  And edamame. Lots of edamame. I had made myself edamame earlier this week and James tried it.  Since then, he has been requesting it daily and usually does a little booty-shaking move as he asks for some 'ena-ma-may'....it's hilarious!  And awesome to see him so excited to eat a green food :-)

Daddy came home as they were finishing dinner (after 8:00) and it was time to get ready for bed.  Since it wasn't a school night, the kiddos got in their jammies and got to snuggle up on the green bean and watch television for awhile.  I asked James if he had had a good day, and he told me that it was 'the best day ever!'  This Momma's heart was smiling!  So glad that we were able to enjoy such a nice day together and that I was even able to squeeze in some productive time.

Judging by how hard and fully clothed he crashed last night, I suspect it was NOT a limoncello day for Jerry! I am so proud of his hard work and commitment to his job and to his family.  I know that these days are really hard on him. And as difficult as it is to be the parent who never gets a break, I am so thankful that I'm not the parent that never gets to see my kids. The good thing about military life is that this assignment is not forever. We can hope that our next duty station and Jerry's next assignment will allow for more family time and can definitely count on new and different experiences for our family.  In the meantime, we will do our best to make the most of our time here and to give our kids lots of great days like today!

happy planner

In the office supply hierarchy, nothing tops the planner.  Seriously.  Nothing.  One of its many qualities is its ability to bring together other office supply favorites, like pens, highlighters, sticky notes and tabs.  Well, tabs might be a bit of a reach since most planners already are tabbed.  But you get what I'm saying.  I love filling a planner with neatly written (never scribbled!) and highlighted entries. 

I think that the best thing about a planner is the sense that I have my shit together.  How could I not, with my time neatly mapped out in color coded entries?  And honestly, sometimes the act of putting it all down is the first step in getting my shit together when life seems to be overwhelming and out of control.

So when a friend that shares my love of office supplies recommended that I check out Me & My Big Ideas and their Happy Planner, I jumped.  By that night, I had placed my order and a few days later, this beauty in the photo was on my desk.

Now the countdown begins until I can start using this 18-month planner in July :-)  For all of my planner-loving friends, you should definitely check these out.  They aren't cheap, but they are beautiful and inspiring! And they are packaged with cute things like this postcard (I supplied the frame):

 

and this sticker:

I am a happy planner.  How did they know? Planning is my jam.  Making lists, finding the most efficient and effective way to accomplish tasks, getting the best deals.  All satisfying ways to spend my time. My wedding day was, hands down, the best day of my life...it was truly perfect!  (There were some magical moments on the days that I met my children for the first time, but labor was significantly more painful than my wedding day!) Part of the wedding day perfection was getting to plan it for months and then see it all come together.

Professionally I have always been drawn to positions that are heavy on planning and organization. And have always found tremendous satisfaction when I've managed to coordinate a difficult project.

I can't wait to fill my happy planner with happy (and productive) plans.  And look forward to doing it next to my wall of inspiration, which now reminds me that I am amazing.

he opened he's window!!

Our mornings don't really follow a set schedule.  Although James and I go to the bus stop every morning at the same time, everything else that happens depends on Jerry's morning PT and work schedule, which varies from day to day.  Most of the time Amelie joins James and me at the bus stop and Jerry leaves for work while we're there.  On other days, he leaves a bit later and Amelie gets to see Daddy off as he leaves for work.  Amelie always reminds Jerry: "Don't forget a hug, Daddy!"  (Like he would!) And she insists on standing at the door until she sees him drive off.

It's hard to describe the incredible cuteness as this little girl stands at the door, watching her Daddy drive away, waiting for him to open the car window as he drives off and wave to her.  And every time that he does, a huge smile spreads across her face and she excitedly (and loudly) tells me 'He opened he's window!!'

Yesterday, the kids slept super late.  Between James being sick and Amelie having skipped her nap the day before, they were exhausted.  So I was the only one up when Jerry left for work.  I gave him a hug and kiss before he left the house, but decided that I would stand at the door to watch him drive away, like Amelie. He backed out of the driveway and then saw me standing there.  I saw a giant smile on his face and he rolled down the window and waved at me.  I was filled with glee and thought, "He opened he's window!!" In that moment, I felt sweet and simple joy and my day started with optimism.

It ended up being a pretty shitty day, but at least it started with a smile :-)

lonely mom club

It seems crazy - the idea of being lonely when you spend so little time actually alone.  Even going to the bathroom is usually a group event. Yet being a mom often means experiencing a unique kind of loneliness.  I'm not sure if we all feel this, but I suspect that many of us do.  I think that it's especially prevalent in the stay at home mom crowd. 

For me, I was working right up until James was born.  So I was used to interacting with people (adults) on a regular basis.  And up until a few weeks before James was born, I thought that I would be returning to work after a maternity leave. In my head, I never really saw an extended period as a stay at home mom and even if I did, I'm not sure that I would have even considered the loneliness.

Life happened and I became a stay at home mom.  At first, I was way too busy and consumed with being a first-time mom that I didn't feel the loneliness. I was, however, quickly introduced to some intense mom-guilt when I wasn't able to successfully breastfeed.  As time went on, I started to feel the loneliness and it was accompanied by even more mom-guilt. What right did I have to feel bad/unhappy about anything when I was so blessed to spend my time with such an amazing little human?  And I think that's what it boils down to - mom loneliness is accompanied by mom-guilt.  It's hard to express feelings of dissatisfaction or lack of fulfillment when we have so much to be grateful for.

Let me be clear.  I have zero regrets about the time I have spent with my children.  I would make the same choice as many times as it was offered to me.  But I think that it's important to acknowledge that it's not all sunshine and rainbows.  Beyond the obvious tantrums and never-ending work that make being a mom difficult, the loneliness is very real.  There are days when my only in-person adult interactions are with the Starbucks barista and the cashier at Target.  I begin to wonder if my thoughts and ideas have any value anymore and I cling to social media because it provides connection of some kind to other adults. Amidst this isolation, I am thankful for mom-friends and my daily phone calls with my own mom. But it only goes so far.

Along the way, I have found ways to form adult connections and ease the loneliness. I realize now that my MBA program not only allowed me to engage in my love of learning, but it was really great for keeping me connected to adults on a regular basis. My volunteer work has also given me healthy and productive relationships with adults, while allowing me to support causes that are close to my heart.

Despite the avenues of connection that I do have, I feel like the loneliness is compounded right now by Jerry's work assignment and schedule.  Not only does it mean that I see very little of him, but he often comes home unhappy and uninterested in being social. So the little guaranteed time that I get with another adult isn't as fulfilling as I'd like. And the long hours mean that I also feel more alone in this whole parenting thing.

Again, this is not meant to be a lengthy complaint.  I think that a big part of the remedy to both the loneliness and the guilt can be found in self-care, something us moms often put on the back burner.   Self-care comes in many forms and I know that I need to put in some serious work to identify my own best methods of self-care.  Strangely, some of what makes me feel less lonely is spending time alone! When I have time to myself in which I don't have to perform any of my house or family duties, I begin to find the balance that has been lacking in my life.  Whether it's taking a bath, going for a walk, working out or writing in this blog, I find myself returning to the 'me' that I have felt distanced from.  I've also recently made a friend that I am able to see and talk to in person on a regular basis (who isn't even a mom!) and that has also gone a long way in relieving the loneliness. The job that I will be starting next month will require interacting with clients on a regular basis and I look forward to having conversations that don't revolve around Goldie and Bear, Little Einsteins or dinosaurs.

Thanks for sticking with this meandering post. Thanks for making me feel less lonely by reading it. And thanks to all the people who also express their own struggles with loneliness and parenthood....it helps so much to know I'm not alone!

soccer mom

During the six years in which I wasn't contributing to this blog, a lot of big life things happened.  We moved...four times.  I lost a job that I loved.  I had an amazing kid.  And another one.  I earned my MBA.  We found forever homes for Skittles and Moxii with other families.  My Scooter Bug crossed the rainbow bridge. Jerry deployed to Afghanistan. I had gastric bypass surgery and lost 150 pounds.  We added a new furry family member, Trixie. And perhaps the biggest life thing?  Yesterday I joined the ranks as a soccer mom.

I mean, I knew it was coming.  All the signs were there.  We purchased our Honda Odyssey a couple of years ago...I love our 'loser cruiser'! Seriously, zero shame and 100% excitement for our minivan.   And my wardrobe?  A mix of Lularoe and workout clothes.  Clearly, I was just paving the way to making it official.  And, of course, there's the past five years of my life revolving around my children. Becoming a soccer mom was inevitable.

But last night, I became the real deal.  After two canceled practices (thanks to the freezing weather!), we finally had our first practice.  Despite my great planing to make sure everyone was fed and ready to go on time, Amelie had a last minute diaper full of poop for me to contend with.  Complete with soaked pants, requiring a full change of clothing from the waist down.  Followed by a meltdown because she wanted to bring a ball to practice too.  Clearly I wasn't as prepared as I thought, despite the bag full of soccer equipment, water and snacks.  Now I needed an additional ball.  I frantically searched the ball bag in the garage and found a deflated froggy playground ball....perfect, other than the deflated part.  The kids were totally impressed as I brandished an 'air plump' and got that ball back into commission.  Now we were officially late and the chaotic exit from the house commenced. 

We made it to the fields almost ten minutes late.  I was throwing packaging left and right as I quickly outfitted James in his soccer attire in the dirt parking lot.  And we were off!  James quickly joined his team and immediately got down to business.  Meanwhile Amelie and I were off to the side, enjoying running around the bleachers and catching and kicking the froggy ball (totally worth the extra couple of minutes it took to procure and 'plump' up!).

James ended his practice sweaty, red-cheeked and smiling.  And I was happy.  Happy to have seen James enjoy himself so much.  Happy to have spent such a great time with Amelie.  All day today, Amelie kept telling me about how much fun James had playing soccer with his friends and 'how much fun I had playing with you, Mommy!' 

Yeah, being a soccer mom totally rocks!

regain.

Regain.  It's the dirty word of weight loss surgery.   Of weight loss in general.  And for a word that contains 'gain', it's really much more about loss.  The loss of control.  The loss of hope. The loss of confidence.

The decision to even consider weight loss surgery was huge.  At least for me, it was.  It was admitting that I had a problem that I couldn't handle on my own.  I needed help.  So much help with this addiction (because, let's be honest, I have a food addiction) that I needed to alter my body to help me overcome  it.  When I made the decision to pursue weight loss surgery, I felt relief.  And hope.  Hope for the first time in years that I could conquer this.

People often say that bariatric surgery is the easy way out.  Let me tell you, it isn't.  It IS the easiest way to lose a lot of weight quickly.  But it doesn't erase years of bad habits and it doesn't eliminate addiction.

Being a normal sized person is truly amazing, after spending most of my life as a bigger than normal sized person.  It's nice to walk into a restaurant and not have the moment of panic as I survey the booths and chairs.  Do the chairs have arms?  Is my fat ass going to be able to squeeze into a chair here?  How close is the booth to the table?  Is my fat belly going to fit?  Can the table or booth be moved to accommodate the giant belly? 

Becoming more physically active and recognizing the power and strength of my own body has been equally amazing and empowering.  Simple acts like running up and down stairs and chasing after the kids no longer exhaust me.  And my body isn't in a state of constant aching (so constant that I hadn't even registered that it was there until I realized it was gone!).

But now, here I am.  Facing regain and worried that I'm going to be one of the people who fails.  Whose weight loss was temporary because I couldn't overcome my demons.  I've regained 25 pounds since my lowest weight. Sure, there's been a lot of big and stressful stuff going on in my life, but there's always going to be something going on that I can blame for my emotional eating.

I'm trying to frame my regain as an opportunity.  An opportunity to recognize where I am not doing my best.  An opportunity to find some other things to regain in my life: regain control, regain hope, regain confidence.  It is an opportunity to see how far I've come and to acknowledge that 25 pounds of regain is still pretty insignificant compared to the 125 pounds of loss that I have sustained.  And it's an opportunity to see that my ultimate weight goal is still very much within my reach and achievable. It is not the distant impossibility that has loomed over me for most of my life.

I'm putting this out there to be honest and accountable.  I'm now at the point where I really need to do the hard work.  And this is the hard work that I will have to continue to do for the rest of my life.  And it is worth it.  It is worth it to be active with my kids and to feel like I'm giving them the best shot of having the most amount of time with me as possible (and me with them - because I'm selfish like that!). It is worth it to be the best partner I can be to my JerryGiant. It is worth it because I am worth it. 

back to school shopping

Every year, for as long as I can remember, I have looked forward to back to school shopping.  It was almost never about the new clothes.  When you're a fat girl, the clothes shopping isn't quite as exciting as I'd imagine it would be for people who look good and feel good in cute clothes.  But the supplies?  Oh, the supplies.

To this day, I still get excited about picking out new notebooks and having fresh sets of highlighters and pens. I sometimes wonder if going back to school to earn my MBA was really an elaborate and expensive excuse to go school supply shopping twice a year. 

It's a bit difficult for me to understand people who are willing to write with or on just about anything. It is equally difficult for me to understand people who take notes on a computer or device. Me?  I like a notebook with a pretty or attractive cover (of course) and thin lines. My pens?  Ballpoint, not rollerball/gel. I'm left-handed and as much as like the idea of gel, the reality is a blotchy mess and a blue hand.  Always blue.  Well, maybe an occasional purple.  But never black.  And bold.  No fine tip pens for me.  I press really hard when I write and those fine tips just tear right through the paper. Highlighters? Sharpie.  The super liquidy kind.  The scratching of the tip of a highlighter as I move it across the page is like nails on a chalkboard.  So yeah, I have a few opinions and preferences when it comes to my supplies :-) 

When I'm able to find all of my favorites and get everything set up for a new year or new semester, it fills me with hope and excitement.  I love the order and organization.  I love how fresh everything is.  

Back to work supply shopping is equally satisfying! I will not begin training until next month, but I can assure you that I m already well-prepared in the supply department. How pretty are those notebooks?! AND I can finally put my adorable home office space to good use!

when a job offer is so much more....

Four days ago I received a job offer.  And it was a big deal.  A far bigger deal than I had even realized it would be.  For it was the first time in a long time that I had been evaluated and recognized for my professional skills.  For the first time in a long time, I was being seen as an individual, rather than being defined by a relationship to someone else.

Over the years, I can see that I have lost sight of who I am.  When I met Jerry 12 years ago, I was a strong and independent woman with a pretty developed sense of self.  Since then, I have become more and more defined by the roles that I play in relation to other people: a wife, a mother, a military spouse. It's not that I'm unhappy in these roles.  In fact, they have all enriched my life beyond measure.  But still, I feel like I've lost grasp of who I am outside of those roles.  Something I know that many people, especially women, can relate to.  The added layer of being a military spouse further distances me from the elusive self.

So when I received this job offer, I felt a spark being re-lit inside of me.  I was finally going to have something that was all mine. I have done a significant amount of rewarding and meaningful volunteer work over the past several years, but it has always been tied to my roles as a military spouse and parent.  And while I will proudly continue to volunteer, there is something different and exciting about the opportunity to have a career of my own again.  I have missed that independence.  I have missed being able to financially contribute to my family.  I have missed a part of me. 

As I begin this new (and hopefully rewarding) chapter of my life, I am also making a commitment to myself. A commitment of self-care, self-exploration and self-enrichment.  A commitment to find things that *I* love in life, things that make me happy outside of taking care of my family.  A commitment to find a hobby other than 'taking showers' (because they are fun/relaxing things that I enjoy, but don't do as often as I like!).

Part of this commitment will be writing regular blog posts, because it is something that I do enjoy.  I'm not exactly sure what 'regular' will look like, but I'm pretty sure that it will be more frequent than once every six years!   

I appreciate anyone taking the time to read this and welcome feedback on how *you* take care of yourself or what challenges you face in maintaining your sense of self.

where's the bump?

Being plus sized and pregnant has a unique set of challenges.  While some of the challenges are medical (higher risk for certain pregnancy complications), many are experiencial.  For example, because I'm heavy, it will probably take longer for me to feel my Lima Bean moving.  While normal sized women are lucky to have access to an increasingly broad range of attractive maternity clothes, the plus size choices are decidedly limited.  But perhaps the hardest part of being overweight and pregnant is that it looks less like I'm pregnant and more like I'm just getting fatter.  Instead of a bump, it's more like a bigger belly.

As someone whose biggest challenge has always been my weight, pregnancy is a constant reminder of that challenge.  I'm acutely aware of every bit of weight gain and am making a conscious effort to keep my weight gain within the healthy recommendations for overweight women, which is quite minimal.  Not that it stops me from enjoying the occasional BK Double Stacker (yum!).   My pregnancy has also renewed my focus on getting my weight under control with exercise and healthy eating habits.  But with the focus comes frustration, because I obviously can't embark on a weightloss plan while I'm pregnant.    

My intent is not to complain, but simply to share my observations and my pregnancy experience.

politicsmanship

At an early age we're taught the value of sportsmanship.  We're taught to be good team players and gracious winners.  We're taught that there's nothing admirable about being a sore loser or a sore sport.  As adults, we find it important to instill these qualities of good sportsmanship in our children, yet grownups often do a poor job of leading by example.  Avid sports fans often show children that it's okay to support one's own team by bashing the opponent.  That 'YOU SUCK!!' yelled at the opposing team is just as effective as 'GO TEAM!!!' in support of your own.  Worse, kids grow up thinking that's acceptable behaviour and quickly lose the values of sportsmanship.  I wish that more of us would retain the values that we were taught as children.

I guess it's no wonder that many people display equally disheartening poor politicsmanship.  I've never really understood the point of badmouthing the opposing political party without offering constructive solutions to the issues at hand.  On Facebook, I try to steer clear of politics (for the most part) because daily I see people using Facebook (and mass forwarded e-mail messages) that do nothing but bash a political party, as if badmouthing one party proves that the other party is superior.  And I'm angered when I see members of any party affiliation doing this, even my own!   I think that we could all benefit from remembering the lessons we learned as children and should begin practicing  good politicsmanship, where we aren't sore losers who bash opposing opinions.  Instead, we should welcome opportunities to strengthen our own 'teams' by being part of productive and thoughtful solutions.  I have no problem with disagreement or thoughtful debate.  But name-calling and insult-slinging do nothing to further our growth as a community or a nation.

Just something I've been thinking about lately. 

losing my mind

So far, pregnancy hasn't been the most pleasant experience.  So many women talk about how wonderful pregnancy is and instruct the newly-pregnant to really cherish the time.  Other women talk about being miserable for their entire pregnancies.  While miserable would be too strong a word to describe my experience so far, it hasn't exactly been wonderful.  Instead of a glow, my face is usually marked with dark circles under my eyes.  While I haven't thrown up once, I have constant nausea.  My gums are sensitive and you don't even want to know about the pooping issues!  I guess I was a little naive or perhaps unprepared for all of these pregnancy changes.  The most unnerving change of all is that pregnancy is causing me to lose my mind.  Mostly, it's been little things.  Forgetting small details.  Having difficulty focusing.  But this week the mental incapacitation went to a whole new level.  On Friday, I showed up at 12:30 at the Education Center to have my statistics exam  proctored.  The proctor was surprised to see me, because apparently I didn't have an appointment on Friday at 12:30 and he was conducting soldier testing and unavailable as a proctor.  He did, however, have me scheduled for 8:00 the previous morning and had been surprised when I hadn't shown up for the exam.  My heart fell to the floor.  How could this have happened?!  With the exam window closing on Saturday and no other proctoring appointments available until next Thursday, there was no way that I could complete my exam as assigned.  I was able to reach my professor by e-mail and she was kind enough to extend the exam window so that I can take it next Thursday.  But what if I hadn't been so lucky?

When I returned to my office, I checked my calendar and the e-mail correspondence between me and the proctor.  Turns out, the exam had actually been scheduled for Friday at 8:00....both the proctor and I had been wrong!  I had initially requested to be tested at 12:30 on Friday and that day and time just stuck in my head.  And when I'm not pregnant, my head is pretty reliable.  It's strange that I have to learn to mistrust myself because my brain is just not the reliable calendar that it always has been.

Most people who know me know that I'm extremely organized, thorough and detail oriented.  So, of all the pregnancy changes, losing my mind is the hardest for me to handle.  I rely heavily on my ability to recall details and manage organized systems in my head, without having to write everything down.  Or if I write things down, it's usually just to help me commit things to memory.  Once the list has been made, I very rarely need to consult it.  Now, I'm forced to not only make lists and keep a calendar, but to regularly check them to make sure that I don't make any more mistakes like I did with my statistics exam.

The purpose of this blog entry is not necessarily to complain or whine, but to document my experience, as it is.  After our little bundle of joy arrives, I may look back through my baby-tinted glasses and think that pregnancy was wonderful.  But I want to document what pregnancy is really like, at least for me.   I also hope to regain my mind, but from what I've heard from parents, it just gets worse!

read across america

Today, in celebration of the great Dr. Seuss' birthday, is Read Across America Day. In celebration of both the simple brilliance of Dr. Seuss and the wonder of reading, I'd like to share some of my favorite reading memories.

Before I even had memories, I loved books.  My first book love, as my parents will tell you, was the Little Golden Book Five Little Firemen. 

I wanted to hear it all the time and knew the book by heart.  Ever the perfectionist, I would correct my parents if they skipped any words!  It was an action-packed book with lots of cool onomatopoeia: with a wheeeeeeeeee and a whoooooooooooo and a cling-clang-cling!  What little kid wouldn't want to hear that book again and again and again?!

My first memories of a specific book are my memories of my parents reading Horton Hears A Who to me. It was before I even started school, so I was quite young. I have many memories of this book being read to me, and my parents tell me that's because I demanded that it be read to me frequently. It was read to me so much, in fact, that I memorized the entire thing. To this day, I can still recite almost the entire book from memory.

Even at that tender young age, I was a nerdy pain in the ass. If my parents tried to read creatively in order to shorten the long book, I would promptly correct them. But my parents were great sports and I firmly believe that my love of reading comes from their patience and enthusiasm as they made books come alive for me. I still remember the squeaky Who voice that my mom used and I'm pretty sure that when I read the book to Lima Bean, my own Who voice will sound just like Ma's. As fun as it was to listen to, the book also carried a strong message that has been a foundation for how I live my life: A person's a person no matter how small. Just like Horton, I carry around my own speck on a clover. The image is tattooed on the back of my neck. Probably my most noticeable tattoo is on my arm, an unmistakably Seussian tree with an evil Wickersham Brother handing off the speck to a horrid Vlad-Vladikoff, a constant reminder to protect people from the bad in the world, no matter how small the people! Horton Hears a Who was an amazing vehicle for my parents to pass along core life lessons in a creative and entertaining package. There's no question that books are powerful and have the strength to move people, but it's amazing to see that strength so evident in a silly and fun children's book.

Fast forward a few years to my next favorite book memory. In fourth grade, my dad surprised me with a book. He had picked it out for me because he thought it looked like a book that I would like. The book was Frances Hodgson Burnett's A Little Princess. To this day, I'm not exactly sure if it's the story or the fact that my dad picked it especially for me that makes it one of my all-time favorite books. I think it's a combination of the two. I don't even know if my dad realized that the story had such a strong father-daughter focus, but that made it even more endearing to me. I remember covering the paperback copy in clear tape to provide a protective covering to this most special book!

Growing up, my Grandma Helen began a tradition of giving me leather-bound copies of classics as gifts. Because of her, I was introduced to Black Beauty, Heidi, Jane Eyre, Wuthering Heights, Pride and Prejudice, Anne of Green Gables, and Little Women, among others. From the first book, I was enchanted. I always looked forward to discovering which book I would get next; what world I would be introduced to. I even got a beautiful copy of A Little Princess to add to my collection! My grandmother always envisioned that I would have an impressive library. In an age where books are becoming obsolete, I treasure these foundations of my book collection. And I treasure the woman who taught me that a great library is a thing of value.

As an adult, books are no less valuable to me.  Shortly after moving to Asheville, NC, I read Al Franken's Lies and the Lying Liars who Tell Them: A Fair and Balanced Look at the Right.  This book was recommended to me by best friend Kathy, who lives in Kansas City.  After reading the book, I remember a very long phone conversation, in which we discussed the book at length.  More accurately, we read excerpts to each other, exclaimed, "Yeah!  Yeah!" and laughed a lot.  I loved the book, but loved that conversation with Kathy even more!

My next favorite book memory comes from sharing one of my favorite books.  After reading Burnett's lesser-known A Little Princess, I went on to read her famous Secret Garden.   And I fell in love.  I distinctly remember the descriptions of the garden coming to life and being able to envision it as I read.  When Jerry's daughter, Elyssa, spent a summer with us, I was excited to share this wonderful book with a lovely and imaginative 10-year-old girl.  I read The Secret Garden to Elyssa, a little bit each night before bed.  I loved snuggling up in her bed and making the book come alive for her.  It warmed my heart when she'd opt out of another fun activity so that she wouldn't miss out on our bedtime reading.  What a special memory that this wonderful book created for me!

As recently as this year, a new book memory has been created.  Upon learning of my pregnancy, Ma searched through old boxes to find her copy of Ina May Gaskin's Spiritual Midwifery.  This book had such a profound influence on her pregnancies with my brother and sister that she wanted to share it with me.  And it was important enough to search through the dusty old boxes to find.  I'm so grateful to have this book that was so important to my mother, whose opinions I respect and admire so much.  It's also exciting to share books and experiences with my mother from woman to woman, not necessarily from mother to child. 

In the process of writing this, I stumbled upon many other reading and book memories, but thought it best to limit the rambling.  I hope that you all have many special reading memories of your own! Of course, books have the ability to transport individuals into other worlds and to open their imaginations. But looking at my favorite reading and book memories, it's clear that books also bring people together.  And that's what I celebrate today.  Happy Birthday Dr. Seuss and happy reading to all!!

straining my ovaries

When she was alive, my grandmother expressed herself in pretty amusing ways.  Certain situations always called for the same reaction from her.  For instance, if I mentioned a boy's name (any boy's name), she'd promptly ask, "Oh, with a name like (fill in the boy's last name), what is he?  Jewish? Irish? Italian? Polish? What?"  In my mind, it was always that particular sequence, though that could be my memory creating a caricature of my grandmother.  I can say for certain that the ethnic origin of my female friends was not important because this question was never asked in regard to them. 

Another favorite expression was, "You're going to strain your ovaries!"  This was in response to her seeing me exert myself by lifting or moving heavy objects, y'know, men's work.  Of course, most of you realize that telling me something is men's work is a sure fire way to convince me that it is Heather's work.  Because there's nothing a man can do that I can't!  (I'm stubborn like that!)

I've always scoffed at the idea of 'straining my ovaries', but let me tell you, pregnancy has me re-thinking things!  Like most tech-savvy moms-to-be, I'm quick to use the interwebs to determine if any and every pregnancy discomfort and sensation is 'normal'.  So far, google has been my friend and has provided me the assurance I need that everything I'm experiencing is within the parameters of normal.  My strained ovaries are no exception.  Since the middle of the first trimester I get occasional pains that, to me, embody the feeling of strained ovaries.  Sometimes they're brought on by a particularly robust sneeze or violent cough.  And sometimes they're brought on by me temporarily forgetting I'm pregnant and twisting my mid-section a little too quickly for my growing body to handle.  But every time I feel this particular pain, the first thing I think is, I'm straining my ovaries!  Maybe those thoughts are really grandma letting me know that she's still watching over me and still making sure that I protect my precious ovaries.  With a name like ovary, what is it? Jewish?  Irish?  Italian?  Polish? What?

my new best friend?

Clothes have become my enemy since I first discovered signs of being pregnant.  On the cruise, the nausea was accompanied by bloating, which made pants unwelcome members of my wardrobe (except for jammy pants).  Most women know the discomfort of bloating, even when not pregnant.  The bloating never really went away and my belly started growing.  So even though I still haven't really gained any weight, my pants have no interest in fitting anymore.  I guess it was unfair to say that clothes have become my enemy. Really, it's just pants. Can you believe it?  Pants?!  My enemy?!  I love pants!!  Since returning from the cruise in December, I've spent most days in skirts and dresses with leggings.  I've occasionally worn pants, using this clever contraption that attaches to regular (non-maternity) pants to extend the waistline, but then there are weird lumpies under my shirt.  Plus, it's kinda like walking around with your pants unbottoned which just seems weird. 

Despite my success with leggings, lately even they have put a little extra pressure on my ever-growing belly. So, I broke down and ordered some maternity clothes.  Holy crap, these things are so freakin' comfortable, I can't even stand it!!  Regular leggings have treated me well, but maternity leggings are amazing!  That soft belly panel is the best thing ever!  And maternity jeans will allow me to return pants to my wardrobe....wohoo!  Of course, being the short girl that I am, the jeans were longer than my legs, so they're out being hemmed for me right now.  But come Friday, I'll be wearing pants again and they'll no longer be my enemy!  (Again, jammy pants never fell in the enemy category!)

So, my new best friend is maternity clothes.  But don't worry, they can never replace my BFFs (you know who you are)!

letter to lima bean

Dear Lima Bean,


Mommy said that she was going to ask some important people to write letters to you.  Since I'm important people, I figured that I should write one too, so that you'll know all about me.

For a long time, I was Mommy's only baby. I had some kitty roommates (Charlie, Banana and Hitler), but I was clearly Mommy's favorite. One night, Hitler tricked Mommy and got outside and then ran away!! It was pretty funny when Mommy went out after him.  I could hear her calling, 'Here Hitler, Hitler!!'  Hitler never came back.

Things changed when Mommy met Daddy. First of all, I didn't get to sleep in the bed anymore. It made me a little sad, but I did get my own bed in the bedroom and Mommy still made sure to give me lots of snuggles during the day time. I also liked having Daddy around because we would have fun together and he would play rough with me and, best of all, he would give me special treats that Mommy would never give me (like Pringles and Cheez-its...yummo!).

When we moved to Germany, Charlie and Banana moved to a new house so that they could stay in Asheville. This was fine with me because I now had Mommy and Daddy all to myself. And boy did I like that! Sometimes I forget that Banana doesn't live with us anymore and I run around the house looking for him if Mommy or Daddy say 'banana'. They seem to think it's funny, but I find it confusing!! So far, I like living in Germany. We have a big house and there are many places for napping. I also have my own yard! Mommy and Daddy stopped letting me sleep in their room though. Apparently my loud snoring keeps daddy from being able to fall asleep. It's really not that loud. Just 'cause I can be heard three floors away doesn't mean anything! When Daddy went to Iraq, I got to sleep in the bed...that was nice! Being in Germany is also fun because I have a next door neighbor, Bosley, that's also a pug. Friends are much better than roommates and family because they go home to their own house and I still get Mommy and Daddy to myself. Having a friend is also good because sometimes Bosley's mom likes to make me special treats and costumes and invites me to doggy parties!

Last year, Mommy and Daddy thought it would be a good idea for me to have a little sister. At first, I thought that was a pretty stupid idea and I didn't really like Moxii. She was always trying to sit on Mommy's lap, which is my place! And she kept trying to play with me, which was just kinda annoying. After a little while, I reluctantly discovered that I liked having her around. Don't get me wrong; it's still annoying that she follows me everywhere! But it's nice to have a friend and she likes to cuddle as much as I do. She makes a good pillow! My favorite is when Mommy sits with a blanket on the couch and both Moxii and I get to snuggle together with Mommy!

I guess Mommy and Daddy didn't think that a little sister was enough for me, so they brought me a little kitty brother, too. His name is Skittles. At first he was very very tiny and made strange hissing noises, especially
at Moxii, who kept trying to play with him. He grew big very quickly and I think that he might think that he's a pug too. But I know better. He's not as good-looking as a pug! He and Moxii are almost the same size now and they like to play rough! Now that I'm a big kid, I don't like to play rough as much anymore so I'm glad the little kids can play together and leave me alone. When Skittles isn't acting crazy, he likes to nap and snuggle.  Sometimes all three of us snuggle with Mommy and Daddy...it's the best!!

Obviously, I like to snuggle.  Here are some pictures of me snuggling with some special people when I was a little kid:

Me with Auntie, basking in the sun

I love Nonna!  You will too!

Uncle Ryan looking like he should be in a magazine.

 Now Mommy and Daddy tell me that I'm going to have a new baby brother or sister and they call you Lima Bean. I think the name's kinda dumb. Something like Radio Shack or Peanut or Jedi would be much cooler.  I also like the name Greta, which is the name of my girlfriend.  But it's probably good that they don't call you that...if they did I might try to have relations with you and that would be gross and wrong.   Anyway, they totally didn't ask me what to call you...if they did it would have been something way better than Lima Bean!! I'm not sure why I need a baby brother or sister since I already have one of each. But Mommy and Daddy tell me that you're going to be different from Moxii and Skittles. Maybe you'll be made of peanut butter! As long as you like to snuggle, I'm pretty sure that I'm going to like you a lot. Even though I wasn't too sure about Moxii and Skittles at first, I love them a lot now. So I'll probably love you too. Especially if you're made of peanut butter.

Love and Snuggles,
Scooter

you are so beautiful

For some reason, I have this very vivid memory of a television commercial from when I was a kid living in Ohio.  The commercial was for a program that showed monster movies.  There were clips of the monster movies set to Joe Cocker's You Are So Beautiful.  And that's what came to mind during my doctor's appointment today as I viewed the ultrasound images of our Lima Bean.  The images are nothing but blurry blob and bone, yet all I can think is how beautiful they are:

Lima Bean clearly has already been working on a sense of humor.  Even though today was picture day, Lima Bean decided that the best picture position was to face away from us.  So not only did we not get to see Lima Bean's face, but the doctor was not able to determine the sex because Lima Bean was keeping that information private by facing away from the doctor!  That's fine by us, because we don't want to know the sex ahead of time, but I still thought it was pretty funny!  Even though I didn't see Lima Bean's face, I did get to see some pretty cool images of the spinal cord and femur. 

It's hard to believe that we'll pretty much be at the halfway mark when we see our Lima Bean again next month!