Monthly Archives: September 2012

WHEEE!

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TWO has learned a new word. Yesterday, he was tossing blocks into the air while saying “WHEEE!” Much like you would if you were on a rollercoaster.

I wondered to myself where he learned that, and then I realized I say “WHEEE!” an awful lot. Mostly while driving. 

I Am Not A Bad Mother.

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ONE didn’t want to go to school today. See how pissed off he looks? He is NOT HAPPY. Also, I can see my tonsils.

It’s surprisingly hard to leave your kid at school when he doesn’t want to be there. Not logistically hard, like when he’s wrapped around your leg and your arms are full of a very large baby named TWO. Because that happened. And it wasn’t fun.

No … I mean it’s emotionally hard. Like you feel like a bad mom because your kid doesn’t want to be left there and you are definitely, without question, going to leave him there. 

Every morning I put on my peppy face, seen above, and tell him he’s going to have so much fun! and learn so many cool things! and before he knows it, I’ll be back to pick him up. 

Some moms linger and give kisses and hugs. Not me. I tell him I love him, and I bolt. I have things to do. He will adjust.

They tell me he’s very cheerful once I’m gone. When I return after lunch, he never wants to leave. I am not a bad mother. I am not a bad mother. I am not a bad mother.

The Most Reluctant Runner Ever.

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I’ve started running … well, walking and jogging … in the mornings. I do not enjoy it. I prefer to Zumba my way to fitness. But, because of budget concerns, I had to cancel my Y membership. So no more fun classes until further notice. 

Lack of exercise was not only making me feel disgusting, but I literally woke up one morning and found that cellulite was beginning to creep around to the front of my thighs. Clearly this is unacceptable. So, I decided to train for a 5k.

I ran a 5k once. Two years and some months ago, in the heat of June. Although it was exhilarating to reach a physical goal that I set for myself, I hated every minute of it. It didn’t help that I trained with two of my friends who were both skinnier and much faster than me. I had to angle my body between them for this picture so my ass wouldn’t knock them entirely out of the photo.

Anna, me, and Courtney. Fast bitches.

This time, I have a friend motivating me who is — are you ready? — training to run a marathon. Her name is Kelli and I don’t think she realized the task she was taking on when she volunteered to be my cheerleader. I now text her incessant, grumpy-sounding messages. 

It seems like I know way too many people who are able to run 13+ miles. All of them are freaks. I never want to run that far. Ever. It sounds absolutely excruciating. And for someone like me who runs a 12-minute mile, it would be entirely too time-consuming.

Not being naturally thin makes me grouchy. If I could, I would text my genes every morning during my warm-up and say, “I AM NOT PLEASED THAT I HAVE TO DO THIS.” But instead, I text Kelli.

On Being Married.

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Next month is our 7-year wedding anniversary.

Seven.

I realize I know nothing about marriage in comparison to someone who has, say, been married for 35 years. Seven is really just a drop in the bucket when you look at the big picture. And in a way, it seems like it’s only been half that long … like our marriage REALLY started when children started arriving. Or maybe I just can’t remember our life before that.

I take it seriously. Relationships have to be maintained or they will die, pure and simple. It’s not easy. I can see why some people give up. I can see why some people can’t make it. There were times when I wasn’t sure if I could handle another day with this ridiculous man. 

Clearly, he never thought this about me. CLEARLY, he never thought to himself, “I can’t handle this crazy bitch and her crazy ways one more day.” 

This is me being sarcastic.

But we have made it. We are making it. If we can get through the first 7 years then I am certain we can make it through the rest. Why? Because we want the same things out of life. Happiness. Simplicity. Love. Fun. We have learned how to communicate better. We have learned how to just say how we’re feeling (“I would love to duct tape your mouth shut right now.”), deal with the issue, and then move on. 

I feel like our relationship is really just a bunch of foolishness and off-the-charts love for each other. That’s it. I LOVE THAT MAN. He loves me right back. Apparently that is all that is required for us to be happy. The foolishness keeps it fun even when we’re annoyed, which is often, and the love seems to do the rest. I find it fascinating to hear what other people require in their relationships to make them work happily. 

Today I asked Husband to take a picture of my butt in a new pair of jeans.

Seven jeans from T.J. Maxx, $29.99, with a waistband that comes up high enough to hide my muffin top.

He didn’t ask questions. He didn’t make fun — out loud. He took the picture, silently listening while I told him, “These jeans are amazing because they stretch and don’t dig into me and OMG, I have a huge ass, why is my ass so huge?!” And then he asked me if I was planning to eat tampons and cookies for lunch. Because this was the bag I packed to take with me for the day.

And that was our morning. 

So this is all I’ve got so far, and you can take it or leave it: figure out what you need from your spouse and ask for it. Be happy in your marriage. It’s the most important thing in your life, even before your children. Without Husband, I wouldn’t have my children. He comes first. That can be hard to remember.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have cookies to eat.

A Mother Who Got Away.

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I have the house to myself and a borrowed laptop because I have a wonderful mother-in-law who probably lies in bed and worries at night what might happen if her daughter-in-law loses her shit because she can’t write. Not really. But maybe.

I really want to talk some more about the girl’s trip I took a few weeks ago. I don’t feel like I gave it the attention it deserved. First of all, EVERYONE needs time away. I have been watching Real Housewives of New York and it seems like there is always some chick that can’t go away for the weekend without her husband. It’s either co-dependence, or a worry he’ll run off with his mistress. Either way, I pity those people.

Not that it was easy to leave my family. It wasn’t. I was so pumped to leave and when it came down to it, when Husband wrapped his big bear arms around me while two pairs of tiny eyes were staring, it hurt.

However. Sometimes doing things that are good for you isn’t easy or comfortable. It was really one of the best experiences I’ve had in quite some time — getting away. Not just a break for an afternoon, but a weekend. It was restoring. I am already planning my next escape. Here are some pictures that tell the story of a mother who got away.

I couldn’t leave town without writing some notes. This one is still on our bathroom mirror. Husband doesn’t want to take it down.
Here I am in a bathroom stall at the New Orleans International Airport, when it hit me that I was FREE FOR A WHOLE WEEKEND.
Southwest Airlines.
I sat next to some incredibly nice people, one of which gave me his drink coupon to use for not one but TWO flights. Thank you, John Ward. I arrived in Nashville feeling quite relaxed.
Some of my favorite people in the world! The other one is behind the camera, her name is Anca and you’ll meet her in a minute.
My beautiful friend Jolene, glowing and quite pregnant.



Kelli (left) and Jolene (right) are the two best things about Nashville. Aside from their men, who cooked us brunch earlier that day.
Anca! There you are! On the left. In the middle there’s Lila who is going to be angry at me when she sees this … but she looks FAB! No need to be upset.
The Last Breakfast.

And … then I came home.

It’s a good thing I restored myself, because the very next morning ONE started preschool.



“Really, ONE? You won’t smile for the camera?”


The day after THAT, a hurricane came and I stress-ate for 72 hours.

The power came back on.

I then had to throw together a birthday party for my children.

 
TWO’s about to bolt.
Yesterday, as my kids were loudly playing with their new birthday presents which all make lots of noise, I went through some very old pictures and found some real gems.
 
No need to comment on my glasses. I’m quite aware that they were eating my face. For some reason, I’m still wearing the same ones several years later:
 
 
I want to pull my 12-year-old self aside and say to her, “Honey, you won’t know what a blowout is for a long, long time.” My 12-year-old self was kind of shy and probably wouldn’t have known what to say.
 
What else would I have told my 12-year-old self? I would have told her that one day she will have a family and that it’s okay to want to escape them occasionally. As long as she comes back. Which she will.
 
I would have told her to learn how to apply makeup sooner rather than later because it will save her 32-year-old self embarrassment when she looks through old pictures.
 
And finally, I would have said that she’s a very lucky young woman, because she will always have the best people in her life. The best. Not everyone has that, I would tell her. She doesn’t know this yet. She still thinks everyone is good. I would whisper, “Somehow, no matter what happens to you — and bad things are going to happen — you will always have people there to hold your hand and help you. Always. You have nothing to be afraid of. Eventually you’ll learn how to dress for your body type. But right NOW, for the LOVE, please learn how to apply foundation.”
 
 

Doubly Annoyed.

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Yesterday I bought $18 worth of home pregnancy tests because I was convinced I was pregnant. Husband told me I was not pregnant. It irks me when he’s right. Especially when he’s right about MY uterus.

I tried to punish him by sending him to the store for feminine products … he refused. Now I am doubly annoyed.