Posts Tagged ‘motherhood’

I am one hot mama.


I wish I looked in the mirror and felt that way!

Honestly, though, I have discovered that I am learning to be happy with my body.  I’ve never been smaller than a size 10, and that’s while playing softball and cheerleading. My entire life I’ve moaned and begrudged the fact that I wasn’t “tiny.”  I’ve only wanted to look beautiful and my body continually tried to thwart my desires.  My body became a war zone, one in which I threw every exercise, diet, and diet pill at it.  I’ve only really lost weight twice – “too busy to eat” in college and the South Beach Diet right after I got married (which I really still like).  Even then, I only got to a size 10 — and you could feel my hip bones.

Why was I so obsessed?  Let’s see… I was a cheerleader as a teenager (a weight obsessed sport).  I have a grandmother who called me fat repeatedly.  I have a mother who is a former anorexic/bulimic who is still unnaturally focused on weight (I’ve been bigger than her since I was 14).

So… my obsession wasn’t all that unnatural to come by.

When I became pregnant, I suddenly had to stop doing things that I used to do to be thin.  I couldn’t indulge in as much caffeine as I could ingest.  I stopped using artificial sweeteners.  I started enjoying food rather than hating it and then craving it.  I was still 30 lbs overweight but there was nothing I could do.

I gained weight.  I drank large volumes of milk.  I got stretch marks.  Scars.  Wobbly bits all over my body.

Since I’ve had the baby, I’ve lost all that I’ve gained during pregnancy and then some. Not much, but some.  Still, my body has sustained the damage.  A C-Section scar.  The Marks.  A jelly belly (and not the delicious kind). Clothes fit funny. For the first time in my life… I don’t mind. Much.

My body has been used for a purpose so much greater than looking good and gaining attention. I have a beautiful and healthy little girl.  My body has held and nourished life.  I’m proud of my body!

I’m now a 14/16, and while I would like to be less, I don’t find it imperative to be a certain size.  My husband loves me.  My daughter loves me.  I can move and dance and have fun.  Maybe my body isn’t attractive to other people — but it’s my body.  It’s done a darn good job for me so far.

I’m coming to the conclusion that I am one hot mama. You may not love me, but I do. I’m at least trying to.


The Motherhood Club

There is a club that I sometimes wish I never belonged to.

The Motherhood Club.

My reasons for this has nothing to do with my child.  I love my child more than life.  I have a problem with other club members, and this makes me incredibly sad.  Being a mother changes a person. I’m still who I was before I had my daughter, but my life has definitely been enlightened by her.  I have been blessed to know other wonderful mothers who will do anything for their kids and they make me want to be a better mom in a very good way.

Still, I am shocked by other moms. I was aware that there were women out in the world that were petty, mean, competitive, etc, but I guess I never really understood that there were so many. It seems like all I read and hear about are other moms criticizing and berating each other.  Why all the comparisons?  Why the passive-aggressive and aggressive competition?

I would never dare call another woman a bad mom to their face.  Well, unless they were doing their child legitimate harm.

Why are we being so mean to each other?  I mean, aren’t we all in the same boat?  We all love our children.  We all want the best for them.  We all believe they are little geniuses and that they are simply perfect. So why do we brag about them so blatantly in a way that alienates other women? Why do we look down upon other women whose kids aren’t having a good day?

I can hardly get on Babycenter (at least the community aspect) or read a lot of “mommy blogs” anymore because they make me feel inadequate if I linger too long. I start to worry about the fact that my kid isn’t talking or walking or the fact that I don’t play on the floor all day with her.  I feel guilty for breastfeeding – both because formula fed moms already assume that you feel superior to them (and I don’t) and because I feel pressure to not breastfeed.  I can’t be proud of it because of the war-like stance women take. I feel guilty because I let my kid explore on her own.  I feel guilty because I haven’t read to her Anna Karenina yet (lol, not really, but you get the idea).  I don’t drill words or the ABC’s to her every day.  I don’t take her for daily walks.  I don’t structure activities.  And on, and on, and on…

Why in the WORLD do we do this to each other as women?

Am I guilty of loving my child less because I have fed her a jar of baby food or because she has had juice already? Am I a jerk because I have made her baby food from scratch and therefore I am automatically a “superior” mother? (and on and on…)

The Motherhood Club.  Where women tear down others to make their own inadequacies diminish.

I don’t want to be a part of it.

I know that this is NOT all women.  I just wish that there weren’t so many women like this out there.  We should be allies, not enemies.

Tales of the walking dead — or the sleeping awake.

Mothers with full-time jobs – I salute you.

I think that being a SAHM** (Stay At Home Mom) is hard.  Seriously, backbreakingly, hard.  That said, I think that being a working mom is freakingly, crazy, hard.  Now, let me say this: BEING A PARENT IS AHH!!! HARD.

**Let me give a little shout out to one of my BFF’s for being a SAHD.  He works his tookus off — juggling a 4 month old, a bajillion pound dog with a personality the size of Texas, completing his masters, and job hunting for when his masters is completed.  So, while I use the word “Mom” in this post, I am speaking for all parents, cause this crap (sometimes literally)  is hard.

I am “working” now as a childcare provider (I use quotations because it is both fun and a job, and many people wouldn’t consider it a job.  Although it SO is.) and I am loving it, but I have never been this tired in my life.  I am up at 5:30, out of the house by 6:45, and I am home somewhere between 4-6 pm, roughly 4 days a week.  

Yesterday, I fell asleep with my daughter at 6:30 pm on the twin bed in her room.  I was in bed myself at 8:30 pm (after Glee! of course).  I washed one load of laundry.  I ate some chips and ice cream because I couldn’t form enough of a mind to actually prepare something healthy and balanced. 

I’ve totally began to cheat on my “super mom” goal.  I haven’t made baby food in weeks.  Our laundry is sitting on the couch and there are dishes in the sink.  I’ve been taking shortcuts with meals, bathtime, etc, and I haven’t baked or cooked since Thanksgiving.  It’s all I can do to keep up!

I think that being a parent is totally awesome, and totally doable — but life gets in the way.  It’s so messy.  Isn’t that life?

I am wishing that I would have taken more than 3 pictures in the last month, and I’m hoping I can still clean my house and get some Christmas baking in before December 25.  If I don’t though, that’s okay.

I have officially joined the group of the walking dead – or the sleeping awake.  Parents who are out of the house all day long … I salute you.  I don’t know how you can work all day and then clean/cook/live until 11 pm.

So, as a SAHM, who has turned into a workingish mom, I pledge to lose my (slight and silent) smug demeanor that thinks that I am doing the “best thing ever” by staying at home.  I never thought that working was BAD, mind you, I just thought that I am being the best by staying at home.  I still think it’s important, and it will hurt if I have to be separated from my girl, but I know that as a parent you just have to do what you have to do.

Come on and admit it – if you aren’t a little bit like that, you know someone who is.

We’re all walking dead.  Let’s zombie around together in harmony.

Mommy-Blog post: The C-Section Debate

Yesterday, we welcomed a sweet little addition to the family — my cousin gave birth to a 7 lb, 20.25 in long baby boy.   I can’t wait to love on him! Three babies in 2010 – yay!

My cousin did beautifully.  She was able to convince her doctor (same as mine) to induce ON her due date (lucky! 😉 ), at 40 weeks exactly, and she delivered her son at 3:39 pm (water broke at 8:30 am).  She had the same doctor, and the EXACT same routine as mine (see here if you care to have a refresher).  The only difference is that apparently my body was defective.  Actually, I was further dialated when I went in for my induction than she was… but not by much.

I ended up with an emergency c-section.  I know I did my best.  I didn’t realize that the labor was out of the norm until much later, and I have a beautiful, healthy daughter. I am happy.

Recently, however, I have heard a ton of comments from my family about how they disapproved of the fact that I had a c-section.  “I should have been allowed to go into labor on my own,” “I think you could have had the baby without a c-section,” etc.

At first, I felt cheated and dismayed that I did not go through a “normal” delivery.  Did I not get the “full experience”? Am I not fully a woman because I had a c-section? In this part of the state, the hospital policy is “once a c-section, always a c-section.”  I can’t even try to be “normal” if I wanted to.

Then I realized/remembered, Motherhood is not about how you became a mother.  Whether a traditional labor, a c-section, adoption, or another means, how you become a mother is not as important as how you are AS a mother. One of my friends carried her baby for 42 weeks, and gave birth via c-section to a perfect, nearly 10 lb, baby girl!  Is that not real work?  My aunt had an emergency c-section for nearly the same reason as I.  Is she not a mother because she didn’t traditionally deliver? NO! I have friends who have adopted their first child around the same time as I had Belle… are they not mothers?

We are all moms.  We all toiled and worked to obtain motherhood.  Let’s stop this comparison thing, because it’s futile.  You’re not better than me because you pushed your kid out of your you-know-what, and I’m not better because I went through major abdominal surgery to have mine. 

That’s all I have to say about that.

A little less conversation, a little more action

How do I put this into words?

…I’m not the greatest friend.

I’m guilty of being a “convenience” friend.  I don’t call all the time.  I basically confide in those whom I am around on a regular basis.  Often, when I am in a quandary, I have no one to talk to because I haven’t made the effort to talk to anyone when times were easy.  I live in my own world.

It’s funny, because most people would categorize me as being a huge people person.  It’s true, I’m very talkative and friendly, but I actually get drained after a day with people.  I prefer a one-on-one conversation.  I am energized when I am here writing in the dark with the television on in the background.

I digress.

Yesterday, I had a conversation with friends that I haven’t talked to in a very long time.  Too long.  These were the people that I would tell you are lifelong friends. The ones you make in college.  The ones you saw fall in love, get married, and have babies.  About a year ago, we began to drift apart.  I got pregnant, lost my job, fell into a self-absorbed funk, and we began to talk less.  Feelings were wounded.  I was resentful. We didn’t communicate the way we should.

When Babybel was born, she became my world. We didn’t have a church family up here, few friends, and we stay at home all the time because it’s the most fiscally responsible thing we could do.  I poured myself into her…I still do.  Whatever did I think or do before she was here? I honestly can’t remember. Remember how I said in an earlier post on how I was obsessive?  Case and point. Especially in the first few months, all I could think of was Babybel.

In the conversation yesterday, we talked about the awkward silence that had permeated our friendship over the past several months.  One point was that all I do anymore is talk about babies.  Ouch.  When did I become that woman?

Being a mother is a good thing.  A great thing.  Ceasing to exist outside of being a mother is NOT a good thing.  Ironically enough, a friend of mine had just written about having a “Mommy Break Room” in her blog that same day.  I think I need a little more than one of those.  I need to regain a life.

I mean, I’m a smart girl.  A really smart girl.  One of those annoying magna cum laude graduates that everyone couldn’t stand.  I’m crafty.  I’m creative.

My boss at the last church I worked for made me believe I wasn’t, because I wasn’t what he wanted me to be.  He made me feel inadequate, dumb, weak. Like I wasn’t good enough.

But I am. Good enough.

I’m going to try to be a better friend.  I’m going to try to call more, make more of an effort.  I’m going to try to regain a life.  I’m going to worship more.  Although I love being a mama more than I’ve ever loved doing anything else, I will FAIL as a mother if I let it be my defining characteristic.  I will fail as a wife as well.

Has anyone else been guilty of letting yourself go in leu of something or someone else?