Baby Fat

I’m going to start right now and tell you that some of you are not going to like this post. I’m going to vent about my flab, and I know many of you are rolling your eyes. I’ve hummed and hawed about writing about this, but decided that given the fact that I have suffered through four life-changing and body-altering pregnancies before turning 28, I deserve to get some weight off my chest – literally!

I have good genes, and have never really had to worry about or watch my weight. Correction, I never did until after I had kids. The first is the worst. Nobody tells you that really, you are going to be wearing the same clothes home from the hospital that you wore in. I was pretty happy with my first pregnancy, only gaining about 20lbs, as the book said, and couldn’t understand why others struggled with gaining too much or too little. When I stepped on the scale five days after being delivered of my 7 ½ lb baby, placenta, etc., I was horrified to see that I had actually gained weight and not lost any. Fortunately, my daily walks and good genes fixed that one and soon I was sporting my same clothes.

Pregnancy number two was the one where I was sick from day one till the day he was born. I lost 12 lbs and only gained 15 back… so really, it was a three pound pregnancy. Easy breezy to lose! I love our family picture when Mr. T was blessed at 2 weeks, I look fabulous. Skinny minny, big boobs… you know!

Number three was the killer. I gained 50 lbs! Mr. Man told me later that he was worried my rear would never look the same. It took me a long time to lose all of that. But I did have three kids three and under to chase after, and so a year later it was all gone and I was the tinniest I’ve ever been… actually fitting a size four. Don’t hate me… I will never be a size four again. Still, those skirts I bought that spring still look so pretty hanging in my closet!

So now almost eight months postpartum, I am sitting here on my big fat rear (which I now fear will never be the same), feeling the flab fold over my jeans and wondering what I need to do to make this just go away. I’ve been waiting for months. Apparently it’s not leaving on its own and I’m going to have to do something about it. Can I just tell you how much that sucks. I took pictures, but am disgusted enough myself not to post them for you. At night when I lay on my side and the flab jiggles over to join me… ughh. I have no more pregnancies looming, I have swimsuit season staring me in the face, and I need to stop eating so much decadent Easter candy and such and get my butt in gear to get fit. Finally I’m going to have to work for this, and it more than serves me right. I’ve been a lazy pig and a definite free rider.

I am wondering though – which one of you stole my fairy godmother – I prefer the wave the wand and lose the weight way better.

Stunning Survival

I love this picture from this past weekend. I think my Mom looks absolutely radiant! This gives me hope and the knowledge that with surviving young momhood, comes the reward of being a Grandma! Baby J adores her too, and though you can't tell from this picture, he is just about to clobber her with slobbery baby kisses and cuddles. If I can be half the Mom that my Mom is, I will be a success.

Empathy

My heart broke this morning when I was forced to say goodbye to somebody I love. Later I had tears come to my eyes as I watched my son in pain, knowing that with his upcoming surgery he will soon have even more pain. And I wanted to take it all away. I am more than willing. My heart, while broken for the time being, is still able to feel for him, still aching to hold him and comfort him. And then I learned that a friend had lost her baby, and my heart got stuck in my throat. There are no words.

I remember taking a class in seventh grade where we discussed empathy. I remember being confused by the term and even more befuddled by the ability to have such a skill. It was one of those “skills” classes, where teachers spend way too little time hoping to suddenly instill values and life skills in their students. I don’t think it’s a skill. I think it’s a part of being. Empathy can be painful and can awaken emotions within you that you never knew existed. Empathy takes a lifetime to perfect, but it can be startlingly evident on a daily basis.

I always thought the primary song “I Feel My Savior’s Love” meant that I could feel how much He loves me. But today the words found new meaning in my soul as I felt my Savior’s love for so many others around me. I can only pray that they feel it too.

Hakuna Matada

So I’ve consulted my crystal ball, spent some time pondering the perplexities of blogging and gotten over some of my issues that made me take a brief pause. I hate having my words thrown back in my face, I’m puzzled over some of you and your reasons for reading my blog, but I’ve decided to ignore that, not privatize my blog for the time being, and attempt to continue recording my many coloured days.

Mostly though, I’ve missed blogging. I’ve spent a good hour this morning catching up on all of your blogs, and then there is the fact of how boring my journal gets when I’m convinced nobody is going to be reading it. I admit, I like an audience. That fact alone terrifies me. I’ve also been toying with the idea of actually writing a book. See what you’ve done to me? You’ve motivated me and made me feel competent. Scary things could happen.

Mostly though I’ve caught up on some projects, taken a trip up to Canada, hosted some family for Easter, been dealing with a hormonal seven year old daughter, and just lived out my many coloured days (mostly) computer-free.

For your viewing pleasure… here’s what a bit of sugar (okay, it was a lot) can do to a lazy Sunday afternoon:

Taking a Blogging Break

The Baby Sleeps

After countless nights of getting close to no sleep, a miracle has happened. Amidst the drippy nose –whether from a cold or teething, getting adjusted to the time change and being back home after our vacation, the baby decided to make last night absolutely wonderful. He was fed at dinner (5pm at our house) and then I was out running errands at bedtime and he went to sleep without nursing. Then, he didn’t awaken for his on-the-clock 10 pm feeding. I waited, thinking that with the time change surely he would be screaming for me at 11pm. Nope. At 11:30 I went to bed with a bit of trepidation, wondering if I should dream-feed him or wait. I decided to wait and fell asleep close to midnight. Around 4am I awoke drenched in my own milk and aching to feed my baby. But I also felt rested. I honestly considered getting up and taking a walk outside, or working on one of my many unfinished projects. Instead I lay there, letting my thoughts wander and reveling in the marvelous sense of well-being that four hours of sleep (in a row!) can do. About 4:18 the baby awoke and relieved me. (Note that he went almost 12 hours without eating!) I was ready to get up with him afterwards, but instead he fell back asleep (his tummy must have been so warm and full) and slept until 7:30am.


I have a huge surplus today (my milk supply doesn’t quite know what is going on), but other than that we are all having just a spectacular day. Truly, when Mom is happy (and rested) everyone is happy.


Ironically, I can’t seem to find any recent picture of Baby J sleeping, maybe now we can get some sleep and some pictures of him sleeping around here!

Pop-ups and Private Talks

We pulled out our Easter stuff today. Forget the egg hunts, this year the boys are spending all their time with the silly pop up rabbit! I love when they entertain each other like this!


Last night, Miss J asked if she could talk to me in her room privately. There is no better way to get a Mom's immediate attention. There she got all shy, and wasn't sure she wanted to tell me. I assured her she could tell me anything, and sat in anticipation with a calm smile pasted on my face. She told me she had gone to her teacher and told her that her Mom (ME!) had called her a bad name before school. Her one-of-a-kind teacher asked her if she wanted to talk about it privately, so they moved to the reading corner. Miss J then proceeded to recap all the glorious events of my "grumpy" morning, including the broken scraper, the yelling and the inanimate object name calling. Apparently Miss J mistook a boot being called stupid as herself being called stupid. This severely hurt her feelings, brilliant girl that she is, could not imagine her mother thinking her any less than so. Her sweet teacher comforted her and told her that it sure must be a lot of work to get three kids and a baby ready every morning, how frustrating it must have been to have to walk everyone in the cold to take Miss J to school, and how doing so showed how much I really do love her. Miss J thanked her and felt better. Mrs. Wonderful First Grade Teacher also explained that sometimes Mom's get frustrated and say things they don't mean. Miss J was confused by this fact and that's why she was telling me all of this. Was it possible that I sometimes said things I didn't mean? Oh girl!

I feel like I'm moving into a new realm of parenthood. I would much rather play pop goes the weasel than have to deal with the impending "private" talks that make me want to pop!

Don't get me started...

I’m grumpy. No I’m not PMSing… I’m just tired and grumpy. I’ve been stuffing my face full of chocolate for the last few days and even that is not taking away the grumpiness… taking the edge off perhaps, but still… it exists nevertheless. In the past few weeks we’ve had the croupe, ear infections, a bronchial infection, flus and colds, a sinus infection, a back injury, and the shingles. Not to mention bad dreams and 2 new baby teeth. I don’t think I’ve slept for more than an hour in a row in several weeks. It is truly a miracle that amidst the lack of sleep, hovering germs, the multitude of doctor visits and my non-vitamin C chocolate diet that I have stayed healthy. I’m grateful, really. But I’m still grumpy.

I’ve had a lot of successes lately too. I’ve completed a plethora of projects, kept my house relatively clean, hosted a couple of social gatherings, kept atop my primary president responsibilities, been a “good mom” most of the time, and so forth. Am I convincing you?

I, however, am not fooled.

I hate when I get the grumpies. This morning was bad. Several non-living things in my house were called “stupid” and when my broken scraper (yes, we’re still scraping our cars over here) refused to do its job and I ending up having to haul all the kids to walk Miss J to school without slipping on the black ice it truly seemed like the end of the world. Mr. Man is my solace, and has reminded me several times that “it’s okay to be grumpy.” As I apologize for snapping at him, he will sweetly and simply say, “you’re fine. You can be grumpy.” Reminded of my status, I yell inside my mind that “IT’S NOT OKAY!” But is it?

My friend wrote an excellent post on expectations which I found interesting, profound and pointed. Don’t you think?

Truly I think expectations are a vital and good part of life. Without them I would NOT be getting out of bed after a night of no sleep. But with them, I choose to do one more learning activity with my boys instead of putting on a movie and taking a nap. Expectation can be an inconvenience too. So I’m trying to find a bit of balance, lessen my expectations while still taking them into consideration and accepting the fact that I’m tired and grumpy today, but that’s not who I am. However, if one more person tells me how well I have it all together, I just may bite their head off.

Chocolate Lava Cake

So, what did you have for breakfast?