Public Apology

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this is an open letter to any client of Victoria's Secret that happened to shop at the Southcenter Mall in Seattle, Washington during the years of 1998-2002.

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I am sorry.


I am sorry NOT for giving you confidence in your purchase. I am NOT sorry for giving you a perfectly fitting undergarment. Despite my position only being a part-time one while I worked as an engineer at Boeing.... I know I did a DAMN good job with bra fittings.


I AM sorry for not listening.


Not listening when you told me how depressed you are/were of the condition of your breasts. I'm sorry for convincing you that you did NOT need surgical augmentation. yes. I am sorry.

WHY? cause I GET IT NOW.

I now personally understand the effects of pregnancy, nursing, weight gain and loss, and the last bitch... TIME.


yes. I certainly get it now. I GET looking at yourself in a mirror, wondering when and where did the VAST PLAIN below your collarbone appeared, and just what are those droopy flesh-bags flanking it?

I now understand what it's like to look at yourself and SERIOUSLY have a mental debate whether lifting/enlarging the breasts would really be any better than chopping the remaining sacks off altogether.

Granted, I'm MORE SORRY for the lack of designers that cater to women like us, who deep down.. under all these 'mommy' layers... would just LOVE to wear a flouncy and cute sundress that doesn't cover our entire upper-body because of the bras we have to wear to keep previously mentioned sandbags from sliding off into the oblivion called our armpits.

but yeah... you ladies of Southcenter's Victoria's Secret???

my bad. I totally hear you now, and no longer will tell you you're crazy for wanting something else to go on 'up there'.

It's a Wrap!

ok... not sure if any of you know this, but I LOVE a nicely wrapped present. I mean... don't we all? but really. the art of gift giving is one I embrace like a toilet while preggo.


wait.. that didn't sound good.


what I mean to say is that I LOVE being able to find, give and/or GET the right gift. from the off-the-wall to the sentimentally long-lasting... I cherish when the moons align and I find IT.


most of the time I'm a cheap.. sorry.. FRUGAL bitch. but I have also been known to be generous, too. but it's not even about money spent.. and anyone who has gotten something.. ANYTHING that was just SO special can attest to that.

to that point, I'm always on the lookout for the right gift for my loved ones.


today.. I found a small-scale moment of bliss when I came across a deal in my local hallmark store.


I had to go in there to get the 15+ cards for my students' upcoming First Holy Communion. and cause they're just students.. you KNOW I want to get the 99 cent jobbers. cause yeah.

ANYWAYS... while I was in there, I was thinking about trolling the wrapping paper and ribbons, cause you know.. school's year-end is coming up, and I like to have something OTHER than child-themed birthday wrap in my closet. Turns out they were having a promotion that if you purchase $5 worth of wrapping products, you could get a roll of their new self-adhesive wrap for free. ($4.99 dollar value.. sweet!)

so I picked out stuff I needed for teachers, upcoming babies, mother's day and some birthdays, and turns out I dropped $25. I casually mentioned that it would be nice if you got a free roll of the self-adhesive stuff for EVERY $5 you spent...

call it luck, but they gave it to me!!!


________________


um.. I interrupt this previously started post to tell you all that I am a predestined FOOL, people.


so.. earlier today.. well before I began this post, I whacked my left foot into a wall when getting rhena off to nap. I saw stars, I felt sensations of hot and cold.. and I coulda swore I broke a toe or two.


thinking I am a bit on the more dramatic side than not.. I let it go. I twittered something along the lines of wondering if you know if you've broken a toe or not.

fast forward a phone call, some groundwork in completing the paperwork necessary for getting our deck extended, and I decided to take a break and blog about the AWESOME deal I got on the wrapping paper (and later ribbons at target.. sorry to ruin the earlier story, but seriously.. this one wins out.)


ANYWAYS... I got to the point JUST before the solid line (again, sorry.. no links added yet.. I always do that last and now because I'm on to a different topic I'm not going back)


I thought.. OH! I'll take a picture of all the awesome wrapping paper I got!!!


so I go get the camera.. still grumbling cause my left foot has two toes that are feeling rather hurt.... and I begin to retrieve the wrapping paper from the paper/craft supply closet.

next thing I know.. holy ASSHATS, my foot is set ABLAZE IN PAIN as I hear a disgusting THUD.

in slow motion, I look down to see that a 10-lb barbell-shaped hand weight dropped from a shelf approximately 20 inches and LANDED ON MY TOE. My big toe. on my RIGHT FOOT.


people.. this shit HURT SO BAD.. I believe I stuck my face in a pile of laundry and yelped like a sick dog. a pile of DIRTY laundry. a pile of TROY'S dirty laundry. and didn't notice cause my HEART was trying to SNEAK OUT OF MY BIG TOE!!!!


my body temperature then began to escalate from raging hot to icy cold as I ass-dragged myself to the fridge for an ice pack, then to the tv room for the phone.

I called troy.


I was hurting so much that I didn't even notice that when I told him I thought I broke my toe that he actually had the nerve to ASK if he should come home. (truth be told.. the conversation is fuzzy to me right now.. troy was the one who came clean about this detail.)


once he got home, I drove myself (with my left foot... my 2 toes are hurting left foot, that is) to the doctors.


I could go into detail about how the toe by this point was varying shades of purple, completely swollen and BLEEDING... but I don't want this to overshadow the visual that I barely had half a nail on there to START with (see earlier post about close-toed shoes and losing my nail from the walk)


I WILL tell you, however, that when the doctor busted out a LIGHTER and a silver pokey thing.. I about threw up a little. yes. hot silver pokey thing ... IN my nail/flesh toe area.. to release the swelling. I may as well have been pinned on a ferry and had izzy with a drill in my head for crying out loud.


3 needles (real needles this time, not the hot pokers) later, a set of calipers (forceps? tweezers??) and one partial nail removed later, he then began to cut away some skin.


2 1/2 hours later... I am now home, my foot is all wrapped to the high heavens, and I should be resting.

I just had to share.


I'll fill in this post with links to my random streams of un-consciousness and italics and bolds and such later. I just gotta find me some pills for the pulsing going on in the toe now that the numbing shots are wearing off. as for the FIRST foot that I thought hurt... fuhgettaboutit! it's frigging MONEY compared to the toe. MONEY, I say!


happy tuesday folks!

Jeans... a loathing story

ok... in the past, I have spoken of my distaste for not only trying to find clothes that fit me properly... but moreso in particular... the jeans.


so... I bought a pair of jeans. I was at a neighbor's who was having one of those demonstration things, and this one was for clothes. I had tried on a pair of jeans which seemed pretty cute. except that they were a little too big and a bit too long. but that's ok! I just ordered them in the shorter length and one size smaller than the sample the woman had.

so I got my order the other day, and yesterday I wore the jeans. They seemed cute enough, but sure enough... after about an hour of having them on... I noticed they were falling down. subconsciously, I hiked them up. again and again.

sometime right before the kids' nap times is when it hit me.

I bought FUPA jeans.


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as a complete aside here, I'm going to assume you don't know what FUPA means. the fact that you DON'T know saddens me in many many ways, cause how can anyone know me and NOT know what a FUPA is?? but... for the sake of clarity, and in the spirit of us all being on the same page... a FUPA is a Fat Upper Pubic Area. Pubic, of course, being the non-gender specific term... most easily and commonly substituted for a crass P word for a women's girly bits, and Penis for men.

My first VIVID and disturbing memories of a FUPA in my face was my 12th grade English teacher. anyone that went to SWMHS knows who she is; she was the only FUPA-sporting advanced placement English teacher for like ALL of the 80's and 90's. but that's besides the point. the image is, and probably always WILL be.. burned in my brain.

_________


SO anyways.. harsh realization sets in. the jeans I just dropped a lot of troy's money on are, indeed... FUPA jeans.

people.. I DO NOT HAVE A FUPA!!!!


I have a bit of soft roll just below my belly button (oh, and expands around a little for the muffin-top effect on OTHER ill fitting jeans).. and I'm ok with its presence on my body cause.. well.. I've had 2 kids, I'm 35, I DON'T work out, and well... I like food!!! (which, btw.. another aside.. I DID go to the gym this morning, but I'll blog about that another time. thanks for the inspiration from everyone that gave it, though!)

and I have an ass. oh YES, baby's got BACK!! the bubble, the booty, the doopa (which for this post I shall choose to use, since it rhymes with FUPA)


I assure you, it is not easy buying jeans to fit my thick thighs, bulbous doopa, and mini-muffin waist, oh and yeah... can I get that in an ankle length?

I've tried the jean finder at zafu. and it wasn't BAD... but it wasn't great, either. My current favorite jean is the Curvy cut from the Gap... but the two pairs that I have in that style are not my size. well, one SORT of is, but I'm thinking I could go down a size cause 5 minutes after putting the smaller pair on, it looks like I have a load of crap in my pants.

actually.. I take that back. I've SEEN what having crap in your pants looks like (because of DANNY, people... seriously! snap out of it!) anyways.. when the moo-moo takes a poo-poo, it looks more like he's smuggling a baseball under his rump. which is VERY unlike what happens to the doopa of my jeans 5 minutes into the wear. no.. it's more like a turkey's neck. goiter is it? you know.. that saggy HANGING look.

so. not. pretty.

so yeah.. I could probably go down one size.. but afraid of what type of sausage my thighs will resemble if I do, or even worse.. to try them on and realize I DON'T need a smaller size. I mean.. we've all heard the saying how it's better to try and all that shit.. but honeys.. when it comes to jeans.. it's better to have a baggy pair and THINK you could go a size lower, than to actually GO for the lower size and get the bitch-slap of too-tight denial. in a dressing room the size of a chinese toilet, no less. nothing says "take your fat ass home and stop dreaming, chunky!!" like not being able to put on pants in public.

(side note.. I do know that dressing rooms aren't PUBLIC-public.. but if *I* can hear my ass sweating and panting trying to pull, yank, tuck and zip.. then I know the 16 year old stock girl can hear me, too. and so can the 20-something girl wearing a half shirt that I could SWEAR looks like what I thought I did about 10 years ago. sigh)

but I really really digress.

the fact remains.. I bought some FUPA jeans.

now.. unless I suddenly sprout a penis, have another baby, or I dunno... tuck my boobs into my pants... it looks like I'm gonna have to wait another 20 years for my entire top half of my body to bottom-out and hang about the playground for these jeans to be a perfect fit. and when THAT happens... should I even be WEARING jeans? thinking more like teflon body-suit to give the appearance of a firmer self. I shudder to even IMAGINE what my ass will look like at that point. but again.. digression.


so... what to do what to do. I mean.. you KNOW I'll still wear them, cause damnit, I spent money on them, and I'm too frugal to let shit like that go to waste!

I should start a community jean-exchange where women can trade their ill-fitting jeans for someone ELSE'S ill-fitters. any takers? I know I've got at least 2 drawers full of jeans to put in the trade pool.

oh well. maybe I'll meet an influential person in the fashion industry and I'll get them to create new sizing standards/warnings that include (in addition to size, Ankle, Regular, and Long descriptions)

FF - for FUPA-fit!
MH - for Muffin-Hider
TT - for Thick Thighs
NA - for No-Ass
W&F - for Wide and Flat Asses
3B - for Big Bubble Booty

and of course... there would have to be a

JFC -- Just for Carrie, that is. (hey... my blog!!!)


Feel free to add your own jean-codes. I'll be sure to pass them on to the fashion mogul that wants to be my friend and doesn't know it yet!



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A Letter To My Body

There's a little exercise going on over at BlogHer. and despite screwing up the link back to this post to show that I participated.. well.. whatever. I did it. see below.

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Dear Body -

Although you and I have never had an 'official' conversation before, it goes without saying that we have shared some exchanges over the years. It's no secret that you've overheard the things I've said about you, felt the icy glares and sighs of disgust when our eyes have met in the mirror, and I know that in my heart of hearts you've sensed the jealousy in my blood when I've looked at other women. Despite TOO many of the 35 years we've been acquainted being filled with animosity... I want to see if I can break the cycle. I really feel compelled to make amends for past misgivings and hopefully lay a groundwork that will allow for a better future together.

I've had a chip on your shoulder for a long long time. As a child, I didn't think your skin was colorful enough. I WILL give you credit for being so resilient at such a young age. not once did you blister when I dipped your fingers into melted waxes of different colors. Not once did you cop an attitude and stay the shade I applied to you with various not-as-magic-as-I-hoped-they-would-be-markers. Whatever I burned, broke, or tore... you healed, fused, and or re-grew. you kept. coming. back. seriously, your nickname should be Terminator.

As a teenager, I loathed you, but didn't say as much because angst was fashionable. Over the years I have chided to all that would hear that your misgivings allowed me to be the one with the magnetic personality. But let's not lie anymore, shall we? I wanted to be the pretty one. I wanted to be the tall one. The exotic looking one. SURE... you got me compliments that ranged from 'cute' to "really cute"... but let's face it. CUTE SUCKS. I already had an older brother who was smarter and did everything perfect.. screw being CUTE! OH, how I just for once wanted to be the 'hot' one. so yeah.. this whole short and cute thing? didn't really help your case.

You stepped up your game in my early twenties when you started releasing blood from places that shouldn't bleed. And this whole if-I-eat-seafood-I'm gonna-shit-and-puke-til-I-end-up-in-a-hospital-(again!!) thing you pulled??? touche, my comrade!! You really had me there for a few years when I was having to take 5 pills a day just to eat like a normal person. Looking back, though.. I think you could only agree with me when I say that your power play only made me dislike you that much more.

But ours is a relationship much more complex than that, isn't it? We had our moments, and even I can admit that not all of them were bad. For starters, I know we agree on music. THANK YOU for all those nights. I may have never been hot, but the music got us close to being sexy. So thanks.

And you know.... props to you for the whole child-bearing thing. I don't know WHY, I don't know HOW.. but for all the shit I put in, on, and through you... you gave ME the two greatest gifts I could have ever imagined. you humble me. Now, I'm not saying that you made it EASY by any way shape or form to RECEIVE such gifts... but wow. you really hooked me up. talk about a guilt trip.

So as I write you this letter today, I can honestly say that I don't hate you any more. I recognize all that you have done for me over the years, and I would officially like to apologize for the abuse. I really do appreciate you, Body. I am SO MUCH because of you, and there is no doubt that I value you. I DO want you around for a lot longer, and hope you'll stay with me.

But... (oh c'mon... you knew there'd be a but!!) I hope you'll understand when I tell you that I still don't like you. I WANT to like you.. I really do. I'm TRYING to like you. But you know. you see it in my eyes. and I wish I could just use something cliche like "it's not you, it's me" and be done with it and live happily ever after, but it IS you and you ARE me... so yeah. not so happily ever after.

But I am trying. and I will continue to try to find ways to like you, however small they may be. So please; stay resilient. ignore my defeatist comments and my eye rolls and pinches and grabs and suck ins and lift-ups. Stay with me, ok? cause as long as there's music, there's hope for us.

with appreciation,
me


PS... you know.. you could REALLY up your standings by letting me eat some seafood. just saying!!!

Ouch.

My throat feels like a prostitute's crotch.

Jealous

so yesterday morning, I was taking a shower.

this is my time of day to let the hot water calm and soothe, as well as mentally plan my upcoming day.


for the most part, the kids have been agreeable for me to indulge in this hot-water therapy every day. I mean.. they're still running around like banshees... but they're kind enough not to get hurt and to stay within my proximity during the process.


so that morning... just as I was soaping up and looking at my body.. I caught a flash of a very naked rhena streaking through the bathroom.

sigh.


for once, I did not stress about my child's tendancy to strip her clothes and run 'free' as a regular part of playtime. I actually got a little jealous.


it's not that *I* want to run around with my girly bits exposed... but there was something about rhena's unabashed comfortability that made me wistful. When did I start to hate my body? and more importantly.. how can I keep that from happening to rhena?


I'd LIKE to think we're doing a good job.. cause this child LOVES herself. just ask her, and she'll volunteer how she IS the prettiest dancer and that God made her 'just perfect', and that she's LUCKY to have 'crazy hair' and so on and so on. So it would APPEAR that she has a good body image. So how come I can teach her to be that way, and not take a dose of my own medicine?


I seem to first remember hating myself in high school. It was somewhere in the vicinity of 12th grade. which is odd enough, because ALL through high school it was common knowledge that certain girls had eating disorders and/or took laxatives so they would be thinner. But despite knowing what OTHER girls put themselves through.. I was always fine with myself. I was ME. and I was fine with that.

But just when all was going fine.. settled into senior year, I was class vice president, captain of this and that team... college planned out.... something happened. In true high school fashion ONE girl got a bug up her ass about SOMETHING, and all hell broke loose. I became the target of one girl's hormonal fury, and next thing I knew, my whole world was up-side-down. girls that I had known since GRADE SCHOOL gave me icy stares and muttered "fat" under their breath as I would walk down my row to my seat. one girl, in particular, who was quite homely and had me by at least a good 20 pounds, snarled at me and gave me the treatment. That, I think, was the deepest cut. For all the times I included HER at the risk of being seen as 'uncool'... SHE was turning on me.


needless to say, I shut down. To this day, with the exception of maybe one or two friends... I still harbor an indifference for the people I went to high school with. That period in high school taught me the true value of friendship, and that people in high school were only in my life because of the coincidence of where they lived. By graduation, all the 'surface' appearances and behaviors were made nice and cleaned up. But I left SWMHS a hardened person.


in many ways I suppose it provided me with an invaluable education in life. the next 10-15 years allowed me to socialize, date, and be professional without too many people ever being able to get under my skin. well.. except maybe myself.


since then, I have never really been able to be thrilled with what my body looked like. sure.. I spent a FARE amount of time in college and in seattle dancing on speakers in night clubs, and wore very little clothing in the process. though wearing 'very little clothing' at a club in the 90s seems so PRUDE compared to some of the outfits I see worn on TV these days.


but back to my point. here in stepford and around charlotte, I see MANY women wearing outfits that flaunt and accentuate their bodies. I know of some hens here in the hood that insist on wearing clothes in a tighter size because they can. (not saying that I or anyone else in the free world think they SHOULD... just that they can and do.)

I guess it makes me a little jealous. jealous that they have the confidence or enough self love to not cringe when they look in the mirror. maybe they, too, have a secret self-loathing, but are better at faking it. I personally, am tired of faking it. I just want to feel good in the skin I'm in.

and it's not to say that I don't APPRECIATE the body I have. it successfully conceived and gave birth AND nourished two of my greatest accomplishments. my feet have walked miles for a cause very important to me. my legs have stood against and helped me walk away from ridiculous situations. my hands and arms have touched and held people that this world is truly better off for them being in it. but when I look in the mirror... I don't see that. or at least I FORGET to see that.


I was just reading another blog the other day about surrounding yourself with people who accentuate your life. and that idea is SO applicable in this scenerio, too.


Rhena is happy in her own skin because she is surrounded by people who love every inch of it. I continue to have issues with my outer shell because I choose to associate with people who place high value on external appearances. And have 'friends' who remind me that my arms will always be fat. of course.. I also have friends and family who love every inch of me... but I tend not to hear them as much as I hear the unhealthy 'friends'. I need to stop that. especially before rhena starts to follow suit.


and maybe now, after writing this out, I understand that I'm not jealous of rhena. I'm happy. happy for her, and happy that despite my own image-issues, she remains unscathed and accepts everyone and everything as just right in shape and size.

even me.

Interesting development

so last night was interesting.

Y'all know that we as a family love some food, right??? well.. troy and *I* do, anyway. and moosey, too, I guess. rhena.. well.. she's an odd one.

BUT ANYWAY



Last night.. troy stopped off at a burger joint on his way home from job 1. Being that I'm on the no-meat thing for lent, I asked him to bring me home some french fries. (DUDE... I may have given up meat, sweets, and alcohol... but I'm NOT suicidal... I need some things to eat, and by golly; french fries and cheetos are on my safe list!)


anyways.. Troy knocked back the burger and I assisted with the fries. the whole house then proceeded to smell like a deep fryer, but whatever. smelling the lingering aroma of fried fatness help curb my cravings to snack during american idol later.

(which.. btw... who the hell ARE those guys??? it seems like half are look-alikes to someone else, and the others are so forgettable, and holy SHIT Paula is BEYONNNND annoying this year! but in true love-to-hate style.. I'll do a different post just for idol.)


so back to fat. I'm feeling kinda oogey from the fries... but I power through. so troy finishes up the code drop he was workign on, and we settle into some Idol. troy suddenly gets up and starts pacing. then sweating. oops! then POWER-HURLING in the bathroom.

I shit you not... that man has some SERIOUS stomach capacity!!! I have never EVER seen/heard MORE vomit come out of one body.. and this includes ALL of my pregnant pukes, Denita in the famous "huh-huh-SPLOOSH" incident.. OR the vomitorium experience down my hallway that fateful bunco night.

(mmm.. tasty... just right for breakfast, huh, M?)


anyways... we have decided that it's official, and troy is no longer allowed to eat burgers from fast food joints. This is about the 5th time in recent history that he has eaten a burger from a fast food place, and gotten seriously ill. This makes a man like troy very VERY sad. and confused.

and I can't blame him. I mean.. what makes a body go from a lifetime of enjoying a certain food to suddenly rejecting it? I have that issue with all things seafood... though I'm going to test to see if the OPPOSITE can happen.. and go from a body REJECTING something for a long period to gradual acceptance. but that's probably ANOTHER post. I should rename this blog "tangent alley".


anyways.. troy is sad and miserable. mourning the loss of burgers, I guess. I was happy to have a FABULOUS chance to tell him that his puking was annoying to me. HAH!!! (throw-back revenge to preggo days)


I think NEXT time he pukes I'll ask for a massage cause 'my back really hurts'. HAAAAAAA. again... preggo throw-back. he'll NEVER live those down.


His stomach's rejecting of fast food burgers does NOT change my plan to serve burgers on Easter morning, though. he's either gonna have to fend for himself or just man up and pop some zofran like the rest of us.


off to run some errands and playgroup today. speaking of zofran.... consignment sale is looming over my head... I really need to knuckle down and start prepping things. yes.. the guest bedroom looks like a war zone again. sigh. oh.. and final deck estimate should be in by friday. the second one we got was CONSIDERABLY cheaper than the first.. so hoping three's the charm.

blergh

feeling just a TEEENY bit ill right now. one.. lack of coffee. didn't have any this morning cause we ran out, and the chai tea is NOT giving me enough oomph.


two... trail mix. wtf, Emerald people are the devil.. they make shit SO GOOD (or at least to me when i first taste one of the products I'm all.. OH! that's SO GOOD) then I eat the whole bag. blergh. Just polished off pretty much a whole bag of this stuff. tasty.. but uggg. I should NOT have done that.


went out on a date with troy the other night. so nice! so fun!! almost romantic even!


so I wore the dress I wore on the night we got engaged. I thought I looked kinda cute. at the very least I know i'm about 10 pounds lighter than the first time I wore it... so I was kinda feeling good.

uh... until I looked at the pictures I insisted that troy take. oh well. something about how the camera catches every lump, bump, curve and crevice that make me want to not ever been seen in public again.. much less in that dress again. at least without photoshop built in to everyone's eyeballs.


I think the problem is my pose. I USED to have the lock-down on posing. even in my drunkest stupors I could manage a semi-decent pose. (yes, I KNOW this is because I used to practice posing at all hours of the day so in the event of drunken stupors, my 'pose' would come 'natural'.)

anyways.. that was when .. like 100 years ago? like before kids? I need to find my post-child pose. cause what I have been doing with my arms is working for my right arm, but holy crappernuts, fatman... I had sprouted an ass cheek near my left armpit in the last picture taken. NOT GOOD. momma don't want no extra ass cheek.

I'd share the picture, but there's only SO MUCH public scrutiny I can handle. maybe in another 5 pounds I'll share... but I doubt it. although.. if you take me out to dinner I'll show you however many one-armed ass cheeks you want. Lord knows I love me some free dinners.


speaking of the Lord... we're doing the Lent thing. I don't feel like talking/writing about it now, though. it's Lent, and I'm halfway through day 2. 38 more to go.


alrighty. folks are here, and visiting is going well. mom is coming to rhena's dance class tonight. I think she'll get a kick out of it. I know I do.. and she's a gramma. grammas get into that kind of shit.

speaking of. gotta wake the boogie and get ready to roll.

happy thursday, gang.

I'm a loser, baby

yeah... lost the weekly weigh-in to troy this week. bastard was down THREE POUNDS!!! seriously!


I was down point-6 pounds.. so not BAD.. but clearly not good enough. I owe the man another back-rub.


though I have to say... I should have planned this weekly betting thing a little better. not ONLY am I raring with PMS (can you saying walking BLOAT??) but I ALSO haven't crapped since friday. so pretty much once a month I screwed with the weight.


I can only hope that by next week (and a few good dumps) I will be bloat free and down a bit more than I was this week.

other than that.. same ole same ole. I'm hungry... and now with the added bonus of hormones. and constipation. good times!!!

Sharks

ladies and gentlemen... my children are sharks.


and yes.. I am bleeding.



------------------------

I suppose I really don't need to follow up on that TOO much... but let me tell you.. it's going to take at LEAST three of the cupcakes I made today to bring me back to life from the past two hours alone.

My children are predators, and they not only know when it's mama's 2nd night in a row of double-duty bed routine, but I just KNOW they know it's my time of the month to prove my womanhood and dear jesus on sweet HIGH I'm in a mood, and did I TELL you we have another fucking fly in our house???

yes.. the cupcakes they are a' callin'.


sharks. downright, make-my-ass-crazy SHARKS.

progress

so... today is friday, which is my weigh-in day at weight watchers. I'm at 129.8 pounds, which is down 13.4 pounds since I started. not bad!! I've really eased off my obsessive point-counting (even had a few slices of a pan pizza from pizza hut last night!!!)

however... I feel like a lost soul in community college when it comes to WW... they're on me to declare a goal. I know I should, and you're 3x as likely to MEET a goal if it has been declared... but I don't want to just yet. I'm THINKING maybe 124 pounds.. or 123.2, which would be down 20 pounds total since I started... but part of me is worried I'll never get there, then I'll feel like a failure.

I dunno. my immediate goal is to have lost 14 pounds, which is what THEY said to do. I guess they start you at aiming to lose 10% of your weight. so... .6 pounds to go.

I probably would have made it this morning if I was able to take a crap before the weigh-in, but alas... pizza hut got the better of me, and I was all stopped up. BUT.. back to my 'progress' theme... I did just drop some logs, so it is very possible I'm at my goal right now. hah!! I suppose it's also very possible that you don't care to read about my shitting habits, but whaddaya expect?? SOMEONE'S always doing SOMETHING here at the apollo!!!


speaking of someone... the MOOSE has begun to eat food. and sleep in his crib. !!!! He's still getting up from hunger in the middle of the night, but we're working on the solid food stuff, and he's screaming less and less when placed in his crib. (ok.. I'm just getting better about waiting till he's damn near passed out from milk-overload before PUTTING him in the crib... but still.... less screaming. progress!!!)

at any rate... I'm feeling better about things. or at least more hopeful. still frigging tired... but definitely more hopeful.

and you know... lighter. Did I mention I'm down over 13 pounds??? booooyah!

Nightcrawler

I am a shadow.

I creep around our house at all hours in the night. tending to this one, wiping up that one, kicking the other to stop snoring, and peeing like a stealth soldier.

for the past week... I have been getting up.. on average... about 6 times a night.

can I tell you how very fucking tired I am???


oh well. goes with the territory of trying to teach your baby that it's ok to sleep in a crib by himself in his own room. of COURSE... NEXT week, I'm going to try to start teaching him that he does NOT need to eat every hour and a half. I'm thinking this might be met with much resistance and for sure.. even more crying. perhaps this weekend will be a good time to stock up on coffee. And did I mention we are once again in the season of the nosebleed???? yeah.. rhena's been waking up every other night with a nose bleed. not sure if it's the onset of our warmer weather, the air conditioning, or maybe I need to add ANOTHER humidifier to her room??? poor baby, though. her bed's been looking like a murder scene.

On an obsessive-compulsive note, however.. I've become pretty neurotic about this whole damn diet thing, and I've taken to weighing myself at odd-hours of the night. cause you know... after waking up and shushing your babies.. why not check your weight???

issues, I know. but so far I'm down like 11 pounds, and I'm hoping to be down even more tomorrow when I weigh in. but the lack of sleep is not helping. at least when I'm asleep, I'm asleep. brain is off. this getting up in the middle of the night means my brain is awake, which means I start thinking about wonderful things like cheetos and fried chicken and chocolate and pies... yes.. a pie sounds SO good right now....

perhaps salivating burns calories??? I guess we'll find out tomorrow.

What's the point???

ok... so the diet.


It's been a week now, and I have to say that my strategy of TOTALLY pigging out on chips ahoy last week so I was fatty mc big-big for my first weigh-in paid off.


I had a weigh-in today; my first since starting this blasted change to my life. in the one week since starting the diet.. I have lost 6 pounds!!

can I get an "awwwww schniggity!!!" ????


yeah yeah.. I'm happy, but I'm also being realistic. This was probably just a one-time thing, and the rest of the weight is going to be a long slow battle.


but that's cool. I'll continue to (silently) count up my points until my stomach finally learns that it does NOT need 6 strips of maple-flavored bacon to survive on the weekends. or cheetos. or cupcakes. Ok.. the cupcakes might be a hard sell.. but you know what I mean.


Happy weekend, gang!!! Stay tuned next week when I'm SURE to have a crowd pleaser with "why my body looks like skin-covered jell-o".....

We interrupt this regularly scheduled silence

... just letting you know that I really have nothing to talk about.

we've been in survival mode lately.... and while that's going fine by most counts... it's pretty exhausting.

I've begun to adjust to the humungo TV, as well as very little sleep and the GINORMOUS milk cans that have replaced my once-oh-so-cute boobs. Though I must make a point of noting how being adjusted to something and actually LIKING something are two different things. well.. maybe not so much the TV. I'm starting to like it. expecially since my blind ass can pretty much watch it now without glasses, the screen is so freaking big!


my head has been residing in a place somewhere between up my ass and in the quiet fog of sleep deprivation... so I pretty much have been unable to finish complete sentences lately. I do much better in the morning after my mug of cold coffee, but I could just be so far gone that I only THINK I'm doing better when in actuality, the caffiene is just making me talk FASTER, so it seems like I'm actually saying more.


but yeah. it's friday, and I made it through my first whole week (5 days) of 2 kids by myself. wow.. just writing that makes me tired. but still... five days. and no one got hurt! not a bad start, if I do say so myself.

alrighty... I'm off to do things that I only dare to dream about when both kids are awake. you know.. like EAT, and use the bathroom.


have a great weekend, gang!

what a week

dear internet....


sorry I haven't been around lately. turns out being a parent of two kids is harder than I thought it would be. Don't get me wrong... I'm enjoying the hell out of my babies.... it's just... well.... it's a little exhausting.


My hormones have been in high gear, so take everything you read here with a grain of salt.


this past week has been very busy. there have been many firsts, with highlights including being peed on by Master Daniel, and the very next day being the target of a jet-stream of mustard-colored clotted cream from my darling boy's ass.

I experienced my first emotional breakdown on Saturday (a whole week earlier than it took me to break down with rhena!) and I also had my first post-partum poop.

There have been very very dark moments when I sincerely doubted my ability to survive the day, much less the next 18+ years.

I weeped with sorrow that Danny and Rhena were getting royally screwed with my parenting skills, cause how in hell am I going to balance my time between two children and basic personal hygeine?

There have been times during this past week that I wanted to divorce troy, others still that I wanted to cause him bodily harm. Those moments were fleeting, though, and definitely outnumbered by the times I wondered how everyone else in the world is surviving without Troy as their husband.

my breasts have become freakishly large. and scabbed, and yeah.. every time Danny's nursing, it feels like someone is trying to staple my nipple to sandpaper. over and over and over again.

I fought back tears as I said goodbye to my parents on monday morning. but inside I was scared. scared of how in hell I was going to manage without their safety net. scared.... but ready.

I have become obsessed with my weight and size of my stomach. not healthy, I know, but I can't help it. I'm not going to starve myself or anything, because let's face it.. I'm constantly hungry and I love food way too much. I do know I need to stop being so hard on myself. it's only been 9 days, I know.... but still. my stomach is distracting.

but not all is doom and gloom. There have been moments of pure bliss this past week, too. holding both of my children and knowing there is nothing but pure love in my arms is something I try to do several times a day.

Hearing Danny's quiet wheeze as he sleeps next to me has got to be close to what heaven sounds like. but I could be biased.


friends, family and neighbors have been SO generous. there has been a steady arrival of gifts, both large and small. we as a family feel very loved. I as an individual feel beyond blessed.

and I HAVE managed to shower every day. I may not be sleeping much, but at least I feel clean.




anyways. there you have it. sort of. I'm giving myself another week or two before I expect the fog to clear slightly and I swear pictures are coming.

One day closer

every day that passes that I don't go into labor is just one day closer to Tuesday.


I'm happy to have our 'drop birth' date (I was gonna say 'drop dead' date, but that just doesn't sound appropriate here)

Tuesday seems far enough away that anything CAN still happen, but yet close enough that I'm not going to kill any neighbors cause it's too far away.

Now, looking back at the fact that my due date was November SEVENTH, I can't help but shake my head and wonder what's up. Is there something inherently wrong with me that I can't do this? I mean, over the course of nine+ months, you'd think the netherlands would have gotten the memo.... but apparently not?

Then on the other hand... I can't say I really mind, either. sure... right now I'm big as a fucking house, and moving around is a bit uncomfortable... but the puking has been at bay for THREE WEEKS as of tomorrow. This is beyond phenomenal for me... I mean, what a nice way to go out!

and of course there's that huge part of my brain that says... no labor = no pain... so putting off just one more day (for the past two weeks) has worked out ok, too.

But I'm ready. ready to meet the One Within... ready to see Rhena's face when she meets her little brother or sister for the first time.... ready to see Troy hold our child.... the one we made for all the right reasons.

SO I'm going to bed smiling tonight... knowing that even if tonight goes by without rushing to the hospital... tomorrow I'll wake up and be one more day closer.

A word from our Sponsor

hello world.

it's me, the baby. no... I'm not really typing this, but I probably could, based on how gestationally old I am already.


I wanted to tell you a few things about how shit's rolling here in the womb, so you can understand why I really haven't fealt like coming out.


first of all... it's nice and warm in here. I keep hearing mommy talk about a cold front coming through outside (supposed to get into the 50's in the next few days) so I'm in no hurry to deal with that. in here, it's all summer, all the time. me likes the balmy weather, ya dig?


Second..... I am WELL FED in here. I've been getting a constant stream of chocolate flavored fluid for the past 9 months (give or take a week and a half) and lemmee tell you... its GOOD!!!! I keep hearing mumble jumble about stuff called MILK... but unless it's brown and served with banana bread, over ice cream, or helping me wash down these things called BROWNIES I keep hearing about... I'll take what's on the menu in here.


Also, I don't know if mommy mentioned this yet, but by the sound of things, I'm a pretty big baby. (about 8 pounds 12 ounces??) Now, I'm no doctor, but if any of you have seen a woman's tidget before... they're not too big. Well.. at least mommy's isn't from what I can see from in here. Now... for all of YOU trying to imagine what *I'm* being expected to do.. I want you to run out to your nearest golf course and try to ram your head into the nineth hole. IF you can get your head through without looking like a conehead... go on ahead and see if the rest of your body fits through to the other side, will ya? then get back to me and let me know how you did it, cause the other day I was hanging out in here and some doctor lady with gloves was knocking on my door, and could barely fit her finger through my door. people.. lemme tell you.. until I see some decent sun light, I ain't goin NOWHERE.


now with all you folks out there encouraging mommy to try castor oil or sex.... shut the hell up, will you???? the idea of my mom and dad having sex TOTALLY grosses me out... and ewwww.... being right THERE for it? SICK! Also.. that crapping thing sounds like a bad idea. Mom may be a woman, but she ain't no lady when it comes to the hind quarters, if you get my drift. also, I've been kept awake for probably at least 6 months worth of hours during my stay here listening to her intestines. they're a very mean place, and I've done my best not to piss them off while I'm here. Rumor on the inside here is that they are very violent, and given the 31 weeks of puking I witnessed.... let's not stir the pot, ok?


anyways.. that's about all for now. I'm comfortable, and know I have a ride set for Tuesday. If things start to suck in here, I promise I'll come out sooner, but in the meantime... just cheer for Michigan against Ohio tomorrow. Thought it would be nice for Daddy to be in a good mood, too.


peace out, and see you on the flip side, gang...

The One Within

They say the waiting is the hardest part

somehow, I think a guy said that, cause seriously... wouldn't the whole... PUSHING A BABY OUT be the hardest part?


of course, I still wouldn't know, cause this baby's still hanging in me like I'm passing out free drinks.


so yeah. me. still pregnant.


and you? how have YOU been, dear readers?


really, there's not much for me to say other than my appointment went well yesterday. the baby is doing great.... all checked out to be fab-u-loso inside. speaking of inside... Boney-maroney doctor was up to her old tricks again, and after having her entire arm up in me reading braille for some underprivledged kids... she came to the conclusion that I'm still barely 1cm dilated.

lovely.

so now we're in the process of trying to get on the hospital schedule for tuesday the 21st for a c-section. This will have given me 2 full weeks to go into labor on my own, and if still nothing's shaking loose by tuesday, well then, by golly, we're just gonna go right in and take the damn thing out.


and that... is basically that.


oh well.. today is one of those crappy days, and rhena's napping, so I think I'm going to follow suit. I'll let ya know if anything happens, o-b-k-b?

The good, the bad, and the baby

well gang..... I had another appointment today, and still no sign of the One Within coming out soon.


this is both good and bad.... but probably not for why you would think. or for what you may think I think. I think.

ANYWAYS....


the good news is that all is fine. the baby continues to be very active. This may or may not be directly related to the amount of chocolate I gorge myself on regularly, but it sure is a mover. and a kicker.. but we won't get into that now.

more good news is that despite being overdue, the docs are in no hurry to speed things up. I know... for all the bitching I've done thus far, you'd think I'd want to hurry up and have this kid already... but to be perfectly honest... I'm totally ok with the way things are right now. I STILL haven't had a full-on puke session since that last Sunday, so I think this actually ties or beats or is pretty damn close to my longest streak of no puking since approximately week EIGHT of my pregnancy. YES... I'm waking up at night choking on the vomit that has creeped up my esophagus, YES.... my hips are aching as if someone ripped my legs off and shoved them back into my pelvis backwards, and YES.... I'm peeing every 15-45 minutes because this kid keeps thwacking at my bladder... but I HAVEN'T BEEN PUKING!!!!!! and BECAUSE I haven't been puking, I've been laying off the heavy-duty-anti-puke medication (zofran), which ALSO means I have been able to SHIT every day!!!!

people.... minus the hips, the night-chokes, and peeing... I feel fucking AWESOME!!!!


but aside from that, I'm especially happy that my doctors are not trying to intervene, because I really really want this baby to come out when it's ready. For as anal as I can tend to be... I really was against scheduling a c-section and essentially 'picking' my child's birthday, based on schedules and convenience. And so I'm getting my wish.

I signed up for a VBAC, and I'm being given the chance to let my body go into labor on its own. sweet. Of course the flip side of this is that the day is coming that I may have to push a child out of my tidget, and that in itself scares the living daylights out of me. BUT... this baby will come when it's supposed to.... and to me, that's pretty magical.

so we all understand.. I'm happy things are just in the flow right now. I'm actually enjoying my mom being here. Sure, we get snippy with each other, and both of us will be the first to say the other is a pain in the ass at times.... but it's really nice having her here. Seeing her interact with Rhena is something I USUALLY only get to see a handful of times a year. So to see the way they play, to see the way Rhena adores my mom, and moreso the CONSTANT outpouring of love from my mom to Rhena... and to see it every day??? well, frankly.... I feel Blessed.


But like anything, all goodness can't come without a price. The longer this baby stays inside, the longer my mom remains away from my dad. and while each of THEM will be the first to say that the other is a pain in the ass, they truly are a good team. They both manage to drive each other crazy and keep the other in line, and while they're each awesome individuals, they are really at their pinnacle when together. I guess that's what 39 years together does to a team. yeah... 39 years. crazy, right? tomorrow is their anniversary. I feel bad they won't be together to celebrate.... but worse because it's because of me.

and another thing that's been weighing heavy on me is our annual Christmas Social. This year will be the 8th year in a row in which this party has been held. It's been slated to be held this year on December 2nd, and I'm afraid that the longer this baby stays inside, the less feasible it is for us to have this party.

This social is MY SHIT, people. I DO NOT want to cancel, I really don't. but even if this baby is born like RIGHT NOW AS I'M TYPING... it will still be less than a month old by the time we have a houseful of drunk strangers milling in and out of our house. Stubborn, obstinate me is saying fuck it.. have the party anyway... besides, we've already told everyone about it, we can't just cancel now....

But the "feeling-very-fortunate-to-have-even-gotten-pregnant-and-carry-a-baby-to-term-AND-be-allowed-to-have-said-miracle-come-on-its-own-terms-and-by-the-way-did-we-mention-that-we're-done-having-children-after-this-one-so-is-it-really-smart-to-jeopardize-the-health-and-well-being-OF-AN-INFANT-a-beautiful-innocent-defenseless-INFANT-for-the-sake-of-some-friends-and-neighbors-having-a-good-time??" side of me is thinking we should postpone the social til like January or something. Especially thinking that this baby may not even show up until the 22nd!!! Somehow having a big neighborhood brewhahhah doesn't sound like a smart idea when your baby is 10 days old.


bah humbug.


oh well. I guess in the end, I'm getting what I wanted.... and a little more to boot. Perhaps this child's first lesson to me is that having Christmas Spirit leans a little more on the side of forgiveness, understanding and patience, and a little less towards staunch ability to keep commitments. I hope our friends can see it that way, anyway. Either way, I'm sure that however this year's social shakes down, it'll help us figure out who's worth getting an invite next year.


til next time; Semper Fi to all those with a Marine in their lives.... THANK YOU to all the Vets out there (past and present) .... and Happy 39 years to my folks.

Thanks, but still no baby

thanks for checking in.... but nope... no baby yet.


That's fine. my 'due date' was only yesterday, so for sure we're under two weeks max now. Plus, dare I ever type this out loud... but I haven't had a full-on puke session since LAST sunday. (mind you, I'm getting up 1 -3x a night because I'm choking on the vomit in my throat....) but no hard-core puke fests in a week and a half. That's right gang... today is day TEN of no major puking!!!! How could I NOT be in a good mood?

other than that, all computer systems seem to be restored to their proper working order in the Johnson house. I even played a little Call of Duty last night on xbox live. Troy just sat and shook his head as I got obliterated by my competition.... but by my third game, I actually killed four other people. I was proud!


the weather today is one of those days where if I had the right mind, (and no child) I'd stay in bed all day. grey with a slight chill, then the occasional sun peeking through at full blast to remind you that you do indeed live in the south.... but not enough that you don't feel guilty for not being out and about basking in it. this is fried chicken weather, people..... actually, we could be having a hurricane today and I'd still think it's fried chicken weather. I just hear Bojangles calling me. (perhaps my digestive system is subconciously trying to clean itself out so I don't shit all over this next child if indeed forced to push it out???)

I dunno... nor do I want to think about it much more. I'd prefer just to focus on the fact that today is day 10 with no pukes, and in roughly or less than two weeks, we's gonna have another baby up in here. If I allow myself to actually think about the whole nature show of pain and pushing and ripping, tearing, cutting and blood and rings of fire and associated things that go hand-in-hand with child birth, I may just pass the fuck out.

so yeah... day 10, and T-minus 14 days.

sweet.