I hate talking about losing weight and exercising, and I think it's because I don't want to admit that I had to lose weight in the first place. Obviously people that I know in "real" life know that I was (still am) overweight and noticed when it started coming off, but there are people on Facebook that I really didn't want to know. People I haven't seen since high school, boys I dated in college, friends from elementary school - none of them needed to know that I had gone from average-size to obese over the course of the last 10 years. It was embarrassing, and I was ashamed of it. I was never skinny, and I was certainly never athletic - but I was average for my height (which is very short; I am just under 5 feet tall). All of this means not posting photos of myself on the Internet unless I appear "normal"-size. Which means I mostly shared pictures of my kids without me in them.
Finally, around Christmas 2011, I was finally convinced that I was overweight and unhappy about it and needed to do something about it. I'd already decided to go back to school and finish my bachelor's degree (which I did in August 2012), and my true size was revealed in September when I had to make a video for a speech class. Sure, the camera can add 10 lbs, but can it add 35? Probably not. The Friends quote kept running through my mind as I watched it, "How many cameras are actually ON you?" Still, from September to December I convinced myself that I was fine, and I needed to accept my body because it was mine and I had to set a good example for my children by loving it just the way it was. I went shopping for my birthday in October and purchased size 12 jeans that looked flattering and tops that covered my stomach. I was ok with it. Then I started looking at fashion on Pinterest and Polyvore and realized that, while I could purchase cute jeans and dresses in my current size, I wasn't going to look the way I felt I looked in my mind. I wasn't going to feel comfortable in shorts, ever. I would look like a 4'11, size 12 girl no matter what I wore - and I love clothes, and I wanted to enjoy shopping for them again. I didn't want to buy clothes that covered up my body, I wanted to buy clothes that showed it off.
The biggest problem with losing weight for me in the past was the mental roadblock. The mental process had gone like this for me over the last 7 years or so:
-I look fine at this size! Women don't have to be a size 2 to be attractive. I just need to accept and love my body for what it is. Besides, I carry my weight well.
-I am still only a size 10. That's really not that big, it's still a medium!
-Ok, except I'm 4'11. Size 10 is pretty big when you're this short. I should really do something about it.
-I joined Weight Watchers! I lost 5 lbs!
-This is completely unfair. Why can some people eat whatever they want and be stick-thin? It's not fair it's not fair it's not fair. I quit.
-Anger over being fat = eating more food.
-I'm back in school now, I have two young kids and a job outside the house, I don't have time to go to the gym and exercise. I'll lose weight later.
-A size 12 isn't that big. It's not even plus-size!
And so on, and so forth. I think I joined WW three times from 2003-2010 and never stayed on it for more than a month. It finally boiled down to the fact that I just wasn't ready to make the commitment.
But finally, FINALLY something clicked. My mom said I encouraged her to join, I say she encouraged me - either way, we decided to do it together this time. We would encourage each other and keep each other motivated to lose the weight and keep it off for good. We were going to commit to the plan, once and for all, because we knew it worked.
So on January 2, 2012, we stepped into a Monday evening meeting. If you have ever dieted, you know that Monday is the absolute WORST day to weigh-in, because you spent all weekend going out to dinner and drinking and doing whatever else you usually do for fun. But we had to do it, and we had to start NOW. There was no waiting until Wednesday, or Friday. It had to be the first day they were open after the new year. We could always switch meetings another time.
When I stepped on the scale the first time, I weighed 160.6 lbs, which to date is the most I've ever weighed except while pregnant (and I topped out at 170 both pregnancies, so I wasn't that far off at that point). I was about 120 when I started dating my husband in mid-2003. I've pretty much fluctuated between 145 and 155 since 2004 (with an extremely brief period where I got down to 136 - but that was only for like a week). I was 152 when I got married. I got back to 145 within 8 weeks of having my son. I have a notebook in which I've chronicled my attempts to lose weight for 9 years, and kept detailed records of my weight, BMI, and measurements. Clearly none of my earlier attempts to lose weight AND KEEP IT OFF (this is the important part) worked for me. On 1-2-12 my daughter was 3 1/2 years old, so I couldn't even blame any of it on pregnancy. It was just me, eating too much and exercising too little, and ignoring the slowly growing number on my scale. Seeing that number printed on my book made me commit, right then and there, to making the change and making it permanent.
It was serendipitous that we went to that Monday evening meeting because it was led by the best WW leader ever (and as I've said - I'd joined many times before). E is a real woman, with real ideas about weight loss. She's gorgeous and confident but relates to you; she makes everyone feel good about their accomplishments and she's realistic about setting goals. We liked her immediately, and she's one of the main reasons we've been going back to Monday meetings ever since.
Back to my story. The basics of Weight Watchers is this - every food has a PP value. You get a target number of Daily Ps (mine is and always has been 26), plus 49 Weekly Ps that you can eat whenever you want (aka - all in one sitting, spread out through the week, etc) or you could not eat them at all. For me, not eating them at all was never an option. I freaking love to eat food, and I wasn't going to sacrifice food (and beer) just to be skinny. So in my head I set a realistic goal of eating all my Daily points, Weekly Points, and Activity Points (which you earn for exercise). I didn't do any exercise at first. I recognized that, in the past, I'd thrown myself into diets full-force, setting up a ridiculous exercises schedule that I couldn't keep up with in addition to restricting my calories. Again - IT DIDN'T WORK. None of it ever worked when I did it on my own. So this time, it would be different. I would focus on the eating for a few weeks and then add in activity. After a few weeks, I started walking my dog or going to cycle class and doing other reasonable activities for 30-60 minutes a couple times a week. Never anything crazy. Never a goal to lose X weight by X date. No challenges. Just slow and steady progress. I avoided all the things that didn't work in the past.
And guess what? IT DID WORK. Very, very slowly (my average loss from January - September: 0.8 lbs a week). First I lost 5 lbs, then 5% of my weight, then 10 lbs, then 10% of my weight, then 20 lbs. It took a long time, and I didn't have a loss every week. Sometimes I had a gain. I had bad days, bad weeks, but I always got right back on track. I didn't say, "oh, I will start again next week" - I started again at the next meal. It was slow, but steady, for 8.5 months. Finally, right before a trip to Las Vegas with my BFF, I hit -26 lbs. I went from 160.6 to 134.6 and I was THRILLED. And therein was the problem. I wasn't at my goal (to be at a healthy BMI, I must weight 124 lbs or less), but I was happy with how I looked. I'd gone from a size 12 to a size 8 (sometimes a 6). My face was thinner, I lost 6 inches off my waist and 4 inches off each thigh. I had made amazing progress, and I was happy with how I looked. I was confident. I didn't feel like the overweight friend next to my 5'8 and thin best friend. I felt normal. And I loved taking pictures of myself without having to contort my body or hold the camera six feet above my head to look skinnier than I really was.
And then I got stuck. I gained 3 lbs on my trip, which was to be expected, and then I lost it, and gained it. And lost and gained and lost and gained. And yet, I wasn't motivated to get back on track and just lose the rest of the damn weight and reach my goal. I stopped tracking, I stopped exercising. In December 2012, I got the flu and didn't eat for a week and got down to 132.8. But I gained it back. I continued to hover between 135 and 137 for the next 6 months. Sometimes up to 138, sometimes down to 134, but generally in that 135-137 range. I dutifully went to meetings every week (well, almost every week). But I didn't track. I started trying to run again in January (I had unsuccessfully done the Couch to 5K program before) and for the first time ever, I could run 1 mile, then 2 miles, then, in May, I ran 3 miles. This was a first for me - even in college, I couldn't run an entire mile without stopping to walk. I accomplished something major, but the weight stayed, because I wasn't watching what I ate. For me, eating is 85% of it and exercise 15%. I knew how to maintain; I knew that I could eat 2 pieces of pizza but not 3, 1 scoop of ice cream but not 2 - but I wasn't losing, because I wasn't going far enough with the eating and the tracking. I posted on WW forums multiple times in this time period saying I was doing it, I was going to re-commit to the plan. And I would, for a few days, maybe even a week. But then I would stop tracking again, and therefore halt the process and gain back the weight. I would get discouraged by people who lost 30 lbs in three months, or who met their goal (which was much more to lose than mine) within six or eight months of joining. I felt like my accomplishments weren't really accomplishments at all.
And that brings us to where I am now. It's June 2013. My last two official weigh-ins put me at 137.4, which is at the high end of my range. But on Wednesday, I stepped on the scale at home (which is identical to the official WW meeting scale) and it read 139. And yesterday morning and again this morning, I stepped on and it said 140.4.
STOP RIGHT THERE. 140.4 isn't just a fluctuation. It's not even, "meh, shouldn't have had those nachos at happy hour yesterday." It's a whole different DECADE on the scale (and if you've ever lost more than a few pounds, you know that going down a "decade" is a big deal). And it wasn't one day, it was two days in a row that I've stepped on and it said that. That's not nachos, that's me, falling off the wagon. It starts with a few pounds, but I know how it goes because I've been there before. "Oh, I'm still ok at this weight." "Oh, it's only a few pounds, no big deal. I still fit (squeeze) into these jeans."
But not this time. I've worked too hard, I've gone to meetings for too long to stop now. Since September I've basically been paying a monthly fee to Weight Watchers to maintain my weight. Fine, I wasn't losing, but I'm not gaining either. It's worth it. But now I'm paying to GAIN weight, and that's not acceptable.
I could have easily reached my goal by December, or by now. 36.6 lbs wasn't a lot to lose compared to many of the women in my meeting. Track what I eat, don't go over my points. It's not a complicated plan. But I didn't do it, and something is stopping me. Why am I scared? Why is my brain stopping me from losing this weight? Part of it is being comfortable, and enjoying the compliments I still receive on my weight loss, even though I haven't lost in 9 months. Part of it is that old voice in my head that is STILL saying, "It isn't fair. I have to watch what I eat for the rest of my life to maintain a healthy weight, and other people don't." and, "You look fine the way you are. You've worked so hard. It's ok to stay where you are because you look normal."
But to be honest - I'm not normal. According to my BMI, I'm no longer obese, but I am still overweight. I've always been completely realistic with my goal. I picked the highest weight in my "healthy" range as my goal, because I know that I will never get down to 100 lbs and maintain it for life. I'm short, but I'm not petite and I never will be. But I still need to lose weight to get to that healthy goal.
I know how to lose weight, and I know how to maintain my weight. I just need to get the mental blocks out of my head. I need to shut out the world telling me I need to be tiny, and the compliments telling me I look great how I am now, and the negative self-talk (why are your knees so knobby? You will never wear skinny jeans), and the cravings (ice cream cookies hot dogs beer), and the laziness (sitting on this couch reading is better than the gym. you are not a gym person). The plan works if you do it. But you have to do it right. You don't have to be completely regimented. I never owned a food scale, I never deprived myself (except of second helpings).
I need to dig down and find the part of me that WANTS to lose weight. Because if you don't want it, like REALLY want it, then you won't lose. You just can't.
And I don't know how to get that motivation back. I've been attending meetings all this time, with amazing women and an awesome, encouraging leader. But it isn't enough to fix it. It's not enough to move the mental block out of the way and get back on track long enough to actually see a difference.
I don't have a solution right now. If I did, I would be putting my plan into action instead of blogging. But I did think that if I wrote about it, if I told my entire weight loss story to-date, maybe I could find that solution. Something will click in my head again. Maybe not. It's worth a try though. Because I want to lose the weight, I really DO, but I just don't want it ENOUGH to actually follow through with it.
Friday, June 21, 2013
Saturday, April 6, 2013
New 5-Minute Face
Bare Escentuals matte foundation / Garnier skincare / Eye care / Boots Expert beauty product / Maybelline Volum' Express The Rocket Washable Ma... : Target
Saturday, April 7, 2012
4 Minute Face
Bare Escentuals black mascara, $18
Eyelash curler, $6.48
Concealer, $3
Eye makeup, $16
Skin79 skincare, $9.65
Boots Expert Shine Control Lotion 3.3 floz., $50
Eyelash curler, $6.48
Concealer, $3
Eye makeup, $16
Skin79 skincare, $9.65
Boots Expert Shine Control Lotion 3.3 floz., $50
Friday, March 23, 2012
Spring 2012
Old Navy long top, $30
Old Navy twill shorts, $20
H M zip bag, £9.99
Plastic sunglasses, $28
Skin79 skincare, $9.65
Maybelline beauty product, $5.79
Old Navy Girls Braided Sandals, $17
Old Navy twill shorts, $20
H M zip bag, £9.99
Plastic sunglasses, $28
Skin79 skincare, $9.65
Maybelline beauty product, $5.79
Old Navy Girls Braided Sandals, $17
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Nail polish obsessed.
I have a slight obsession with nail polish lately. It's not too expensive to try a trendy color and you're never too fat/skinny/tan/pale/etc for polished nails. Also, your nails don't have to be long to paint them. I actually prefer my nails cut short, both for practical reasons and because I think my polish chips less than when they're long.
My favorite neutral for a few months has been Essie Imported Bubbly, a light beige-tone, but I wanted to try the new Revlon ColorStay polishes that supposedly last 11 days. I read a review in Good Housekeeping that it lasted 7 days, which is still way longer than most of my polish. When I saw this super pale pink called Pale Cashmere, I had to buy it - I am forever looking for the perfect shade of pale pink that's not too pinkish. Typically they look pale pink in the bottle and become bubblegum pink on my nails. I think Revlon has hit the mark with this polish.
My favorite neutral for a few months has been Essie Imported Bubbly, a light beige-tone, but I wanted to try the new Revlon ColorStay polishes that supposedly last 11 days. I read a review in Good Housekeeping that it lasted 7 days, which is still way longer than most of my polish. When I saw this super pale pink called Pale Cashmere, I had to buy it - I am forever looking for the perfect shade of pale pink that's not too pinkish. Typically they look pale pink in the bottle and become bubblegum pink on my nails. I think Revlon has hit the mark with this polish.
Please ignore my less-than-perfect cuticles and poor lighting. I really think this color would flatter any skin tone and the polish was less than $7 at Target. I just did my nails yesterday so I can't comment on the wear yet.
I also noticed Target had the new Essie Spring 2012 line, so I picked up Navigate Her, a light spring green color. Green is my favorite color, so I suspect that by the end of the summer I'll have at least 3 more shades. I painted this one on my toenails, which I did not photograph because I hate feet and therefore assume everyone else does too. It is slightly darker on my nails than in the bottle, but I like it. I tried to take an accurate photo of the polishes but I just have a point & shoot and not very good lighting - you get the idea though.
Monday, February 27, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Why this is pissing me off.
This meme has been all up on my Facebook feed and I'm freaking sick of it. Along with the endless debate of what a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) is worth (some articles estimate a six figure number), it seems like the SAHM wants constant validation that what she's doing is the best for her family, that her time is well spent, and that she doesn't need a life outside her house for fulfillment.
Please don't get me wrong - I have nothing against SAHMs. I am home two days a week with my kids. I agree that what they do is hard work. Spending entire days at home is difficult - I have to try to keep up with my house (which always seems messier when you're in it all day staring at piles of clutter) while balancing my kids' constant needs. I have a spirited, energetic daughter who demands my attention most of the time and she wears me out. At the end of the day, I want to lock my door and crawl into bed and escape with The Hunger Games and a cold beer (or three). When I'm home, I try to get the house clean and make dinner (or order pizza) before my husband gets home from work. I crave adult interaction - I can only listen to so many Selena Gomez songs and watch so many episodes of The Fresh Beat Band before slowly losing my mind. I want my husband to come home and tell me what I did was important, and acknowledge that I worked my ass off instead of plopping it on the couch all day. The thing is though - I don't expect anyone else to give me these positive affirmations. It's really none of their business what I do all day and most of them don't care to hear about it. If I want to tell everyone the details of my day, I can type up a grouchy blog post (like the one you're reading right now). I post on one of my mom message boards, a great place to share and receive encouragement (and trust me - sometimes I just need someone to say, "You don't have a choice. You have to do all the things you have on your plate and stressing about it won't make it easier." Even if it's not what I want to hear, it's what I need to hear).
The difference to me though, between a working mom and a SAHM, is the type of stress. When you're a SAHM, your kids and your house are basically your only source of stress. Some kids are more stressful than others (high needs, special needs, homeschooling; newborns v. toddlers v. school-age). When you work outside the home (or work at home, which to me is the hardest of all because HOW do you take conference calls with Disney Junior in the background and a toddler screaming for a cup of water?), you are open to an entirely different type of stress. You have interpersonal relationships with your co-workers (which is sometimes worse than dealing with mean girls in middle school), you have to please your boss, your clients. You are typically working towards a deadline and your job is often on the line (I don't think a SAHM can be fired for not vacuuming her living room). Then, after work, you have to do all the things you would have done but you were at work - go grocery shopping, cook dinner, clean your house. You spend time with your kids (one-on-one if you can), help them with homework, get together what they need for school the next day. Most of us want to be involved in our kids lives, so we go to PTA meetings, sign up to bring snacks for the Valentine's Day party, go to parent-teacher conferences. We have to pay the bills and clean the house and fold piles of laundry.
This Slate article, courtesy of STFU Parents (a blog I would encourage ALL parents to read), suggests that working mothers spend only about "40% less time on housework", although they work 7+ hours a day outside the home. While most modern marriages are a partnership (I would not be married to a man that refused to change an diaper), it's the woman that is typically taken for granted. We are modern women and we are supposed to be able to do it all with grace.
The thing is, work stress, just like home stress, stays with you all day. So when I'm home (I currently work 3 days a week), I'm thinking about what needs to be done at work. When I'm at work, I'm missing my kids and thinking about all the things I need to do when I get home. When I crawl into bed at midnight, a to-do list for the next day keeps me up half the night (thank you, Xanax, for turning off those thoughts so I can sleep). Many women work because they have to, not because they want to (although I believe I would still work part-time even if I didn't have to - I need a life outside of my children, just like they need a life apart from me).
So as the meme suggests, yes - SAHMs spend most of their day dealing with kids, not on the couch sipping coffee and watching The View as the children play quietly in their rooms. The thing is though - most people DON'T think that's what you do all day. Perhaps it's not an issue of how society views you, but how you think society views you. We all want someone to acknowledge us - and many of our jobs don't provide us with the validation you may think they do. My office isn't issuing awards for finding a bank error or getting a new client; my reward is keeping my job.
There shouldn't be such a great divide between working mothers and stay-at-home mothers. We. Are. All. Mothers. We need to support each other, regardless of our circumstances. I have a good friend that is a full-time SAHM who homeschools her two oldest daughters. I love her, and we get along with her just fine despite different circumstances. We, without even saying it, recognize that the other works hard and we focus on the things we have in common and don't fight about the things we don't (because what's the point? someone isn't wrong because they made a different decision than we did). We respect each other, and that's all it's really about. Instead of questioning who works the hardest and who is more stressed, instead of worrying about what people think we do all day and which person's time is more valuable, we should be supporting each other. If we do, we won't need validation via internet memes.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Why I can't make mom friends.
I've been a mom for almost five years, and I still haven't made any mom friends.
My two best friends are moms, but we were friends long before we were throwing baby showers and going to 1st birthday parties.
Growing up, my mom always had mom friends. She even had mom friends that she met in prenatal aerobics class (of course, to do this I would have had to actually attend a prenatal aerobics class). She had friends from the PTA. He mom friends were mom-like. Some were overweight, they wore mom jeans and big glasses and big hair (it was the late 80's). It seems like, 20-something years ago, it was a lot easier to make mom friends.
Granted, I am a very shy person. It takes me a long time to open up to someone (unless I've been drinking). I've met some mom acquaintances, but haven't become full-fledge, tell-them-everything-call-them-anytime friends. I don't think the problem is just me, though. I think moms are different these days. Here are some of the moms that I have encountered in the last five years.
The Mom, Mom:
This is a mom that is all about their children. They cannot imagine leaving their child with someone for a few hours, much less overnight or a few days. Most practice attachment-parenting, breastfeeding, baby-wearing. They are often stay-at-home-moms, that say things like, "I can't imagine working and leaving my baby with anyone but me! No one else is going to raise my child for me!" This mom thinks she knows everything they need to know about raising children, and often has no problem sharing her knowledge with you. They mostly enjoy talking about how perfect their children are, or, on the flip side, all their child's problems and how they are working to fix them. Either way, it's all kids, all the time. These moms often spend a lot of time on mom message boards and going to mommy and me activities.
The Party Mom:
This is the opposite of the Mom, Mom. She gave birth and promptly returned to her regular life as if nothing had ever changed. She goes out drinking when she wants (often, she has a family member nearby or living in to care for her child), travels when she wants, works if she wants. She loves her child, and usually spends a few hours with him in the early evening and during the day on the weekends, but can't figure out how to balance her mom life and her life. She treats the child more like a niece or nephew, laughing at his antics instead of disciplining, enjoying him but not really parenting.
The Judgey Mom:
This mom is similar to the Mom, Mom; but isn't necessarily as attached to her child - she just has an opinion on everything and judges everyone who does things differently. You vaccinate your child? You're uneducated and stupid. You wear your baby? That's insane, get a stroller. She doesn't have to be on one side of the fence or the other, she's just going to judge you if your decisions aren't the same as hers. She's not just judging your child though, she's judging you. Oh, you didn't lose all your baby weight in two weeks? You must be doing something wrong. You don't nurse your baby? You are poisoning her with formula. You use cloth diapers? That is disgusting. This mother can be on either side of the fence when it comes to child-rearing, but whatever side she is on, she's right and you're wrong. She may not judge you to your face, but she's sure doing it to her other smug mom friends or at the very least, in her head.
The Catonsville Mom:
This mom can live anywhere, but in my mind she is the Catonsville mom. She lost all her baby weight quickly, she works out a few days a week (or a few times a day). She dresses in age-appropriate, tasteful but stylish clothes, and always looks put-together. You will not find her standing on the sidelines of her son's soccer game in sweats with her unwashed hair in a messy bun, but you may run into her coming from a manicure and a facial. She's intimidating to other moms because she appears to have it all together and by comparison, you clearly do not.
Me:
The thing is, I've been all these moms, especially when I became a mom for the first time. I struggled with my identity, and went from being a Mom, Mom one day to being a Party Mom the next. My son was an easy baby, and therefore I thought I was doing everything right. I don't know what you're doing wrong, but it's obviously your fault that your child doesn't listen or doesn't sleep.
Unfortunately, I was also a Party Mom. I was married at 21 and gave birth when I was 23. I've always been mature, but suddenly I felt completely lost. None of my friends had kids yet, so they could still go out and drink and do what they wanted, and I didn't want to be left out. I thought they were all going to leave me behind, lacking sleep, unshowered and wearing sweatpants for days straight. So to counteract my Mom-ness, I left my son with my husband or parents all the time to go out and drink with my non-mom friends. I probably drank more than I had before I got pregnant, and then felt horribly guilty when I got home and saw my sweet, innocent infant son waiting for me.
I've also been a Judgey Mom. I read a lot of parenting books, probably more than is really necessary to raise two kids. Therefore, if someone was struggling, I assumed they just weren't doing things my way. I usually wasn't vocal about this (remember: extreme shyness) but I had these thoughts often. I even tried to be a Catonsville mom, I went to the gym (again, getting away from my child because I was in denial that I was a Mom-Mom), I tried to look the part.
Fortunately, giving birth to my second child changed everything. I realized that you can be a great parent and still have a child that prefers to run through Target chowing down on raspberries (that you haven't paid for yet) than sit nicely in the cart with a sippy cup of organic milk. Some kids just have endless energy and you have to help them channel it appropriately.
Figuring out who you are doesn't stop after high school or college, it continues on as you go through different phases of your life. When you've never been a confident person, it's easy to fall into different roles to try and see where you fit. Eventually though, you have to face up to who you really are and accept it.
So what about making mom friends? I'm still working on it. I'm learning to be less judgmental and more open-minded. I am realizing that my friends don't necessarily have to have all the same beliefs as me or be raising their kids exactly the same way. My best friends and I aren't, but we have no trouble staying friends and being moms simultaneously. A well-dressed skinny mom doesn't have to be intimidating to talk to, and she's not necessarily snobby.
I think there are other moms like me, struggling to figure out who they are and wanting to make friends with other moms. Maybe they're shy too, or maybe they just don't know how to do it. It's almost like dating, you need to spend time with them and get to know them, and the older I get, the harder it is to open myself up like that. I'm going to try though. I think my mom's mom-friends really helped her when we were in school, and I think I can use some allies as we move on to elementary school and beyond. My mom-friends don't have to be my best friends, we may not go to concerts together and call each other when we're having a nervous breakdown - but that's ok. I don't need more best friends, but I also don't need to shut someone out just because they're a mom.
I'm learning.
My two best friends are moms, but we were friends long before we were throwing baby showers and going to 1st birthday parties.
Growing up, my mom always had mom friends. She even had mom friends that she met in prenatal aerobics class (of course, to do this I would have had to actually attend a prenatal aerobics class). She had friends from the PTA. He mom friends were mom-like. Some were overweight, they wore mom jeans and big glasses and big hair (it was the late 80's). It seems like, 20-something years ago, it was a lot easier to make mom friends.
Granted, I am a very shy person. It takes me a long time to open up to someone (unless I've been drinking). I've met some mom acquaintances, but haven't become full-fledge, tell-them-everything-call-them-anytime friends. I don't think the problem is just me, though. I think moms are different these days. Here are some of the moms that I have encountered in the last five years.
The Mom, Mom:
This is a mom that is all about their children. They cannot imagine leaving their child with someone for a few hours, much less overnight or a few days. Most practice attachment-parenting, breastfeeding, baby-wearing. They are often stay-at-home-moms, that say things like, "I can't imagine working and leaving my baby with anyone but me! No one else is going to raise my child for me!" This mom thinks she knows everything they need to know about raising children, and often has no problem sharing her knowledge with you. They mostly enjoy talking about how perfect their children are, or, on the flip side, all their child's problems and how they are working to fix them. Either way, it's all kids, all the time. These moms often spend a lot of time on mom message boards and going to mommy and me activities.
The Party Mom:
This is the opposite of the Mom, Mom. She gave birth and promptly returned to her regular life as if nothing had ever changed. She goes out drinking when she wants (often, she has a family member nearby or living in to care for her child), travels when she wants, works if she wants. She loves her child, and usually spends a few hours with him in the early evening and during the day on the weekends, but can't figure out how to balance her mom life and her life. She treats the child more like a niece or nephew, laughing at his antics instead of disciplining, enjoying him but not really parenting.
The Judgey Mom:
This mom is similar to the Mom, Mom; but isn't necessarily as attached to her child - she just has an opinion on everything and judges everyone who does things differently. You vaccinate your child? You're uneducated and stupid. You wear your baby? That's insane, get a stroller. She doesn't have to be on one side of the fence or the other, she's just going to judge you if your decisions aren't the same as hers. She's not just judging your child though, she's judging you. Oh, you didn't lose all your baby weight in two weeks? You must be doing something wrong. You don't nurse your baby? You are poisoning her with formula. You use cloth diapers? That is disgusting. This mother can be on either side of the fence when it comes to child-rearing, but whatever side she is on, she's right and you're wrong. She may not judge you to your face, but she's sure doing it to her other smug mom friends or at the very least, in her head.
The Catonsville Mom:
This mom can live anywhere, but in my mind she is the Catonsville mom. She lost all her baby weight quickly, she works out a few days a week (or a few times a day). She dresses in age-appropriate, tasteful but stylish clothes, and always looks put-together. You will not find her standing on the sidelines of her son's soccer game in sweats with her unwashed hair in a messy bun, but you may run into her coming from a manicure and a facial. She's intimidating to other moms because she appears to have it all together and by comparison, you clearly do not.
Me:
The thing is, I've been all these moms, especially when I became a mom for the first time. I struggled with my identity, and went from being a Mom, Mom one day to being a Party Mom the next. My son was an easy baby, and therefore I thought I was doing everything right. I don't know what you're doing wrong, but it's obviously your fault that your child doesn't listen or doesn't sleep.
Unfortunately, I was also a Party Mom. I was married at 21 and gave birth when I was 23. I've always been mature, but suddenly I felt completely lost. None of my friends had kids yet, so they could still go out and drink and do what they wanted, and I didn't want to be left out. I thought they were all going to leave me behind, lacking sleep, unshowered and wearing sweatpants for days straight. So to counteract my Mom-ness, I left my son with my husband or parents all the time to go out and drink with my non-mom friends. I probably drank more than I had before I got pregnant, and then felt horribly guilty when I got home and saw my sweet, innocent infant son waiting for me.
I've also been a Judgey Mom. I read a lot of parenting books, probably more than is really necessary to raise two kids. Therefore, if someone was struggling, I assumed they just weren't doing things my way. I usually wasn't vocal about this (remember: extreme shyness) but I had these thoughts often. I even tried to be a Catonsville mom, I went to the gym (again, getting away from my child because I was in denial that I was a Mom-Mom), I tried to look the part.
Fortunately, giving birth to my second child changed everything. I realized that you can be a great parent and still have a child that prefers to run through Target chowing down on raspberries (that you haven't paid for yet) than sit nicely in the cart with a sippy cup of organic milk. Some kids just have endless energy and you have to help them channel it appropriately.
Figuring out who you are doesn't stop after high school or college, it continues on as you go through different phases of your life. When you've never been a confident person, it's easy to fall into different roles to try and see where you fit. Eventually though, you have to face up to who you really are and accept it.
So what about making mom friends? I'm still working on it. I'm learning to be less judgmental and more open-minded. I am realizing that my friends don't necessarily have to have all the same beliefs as me or be raising their kids exactly the same way. My best friends and I aren't, but we have no trouble staying friends and being moms simultaneously. A well-dressed skinny mom doesn't have to be intimidating to talk to, and she's not necessarily snobby.
I think there are other moms like me, struggling to figure out who they are and wanting to make friends with other moms. Maybe they're shy too, or maybe they just don't know how to do it. It's almost like dating, you need to spend time with them and get to know them, and the older I get, the harder it is to open myself up like that. I'm going to try though. I think my mom's mom-friends really helped her when we were in school, and I think I can use some allies as we move on to elementary school and beyond. My mom-friends don't have to be my best friends, we may not go to concerts together and call each other when we're having a nervous breakdown - but that's ok. I don't need more best friends, but I also don't need to shut someone out just because they're a mom.
I'm learning.
Friday, January 27, 2012
I write everything down except what's on my mind.
I listened to Third Eye Blind in the car this morning in anticipation of their concert in Baltimore in February (can't wait! We plan to re-live our Quadmania days circa 2003, maybe without the crowd-surfing this time). This song lyric definitely describes me most days. My brain is like a news ticker that never shuts off; randomness passing through every two seconds. This is how it functions with proper medication; I can't imagine what it would do without it. I went to therapy for a while and we talked a lot about meditation, I've listened to lots of hypnosis recordings that help relax my body, but my mind is very stubborn.
Anyway, if I wrote down everything that was on my mind, my blog would look like my Twitter feed but crazier. For example, just on the way to work this morning, these things popped in my head.
-At least I wasn't the last person in the carpool lane this morning.
-Wow, that song lyric sounds just like me.
-How many hours is it until I can go to happy hour?
-I got four hours of sleep last night. That's probably not normal.
-Did I let the dog in the house?
-Did I put the dog in his crate?
-Do my son's teachers notice that he never wears socks?
-I can't believe I put vanilla almond milk in my coffee this morning, then had to dump it out and make a new cup.
-How long as that almond milk been in the fridge?
-I love my Keurig.
-I forgot to put that quilt in the dryer last night. And this morning. Now it's probably really smelly and I'll have to wash it again.
-Will my kids let me take a nap tomorrow?
-"Cold as fire baby, hot as ice. If you've ever been to heaven this is twice as nice... break it down, break it dow-own. break it down..." -Britney Spears
-Why do Britney Spears songs pop into my head at random?
-I hope work is quiet today.
-I hope my mother-in-law remembers to pick Josh up from school.
-I need to talk to BFF about the weird dream I had last night.
-I just blew through a yellow light. I don't think it turned red though.
-I'm in the work parking lot now. How did I get here without noticing?
-Crap! I left my coffee in the car.
So the thing is, I want to write a novel. Not the Great American Novel. Not a novel to turn into a movie like Twilight or The Hunger Games or The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I like writing fluffy, cute, kind of funny stories with an endearing main character with lots of self-confidence who falls in love with her dream guy. The kind of stories I immediately start reading when I finish a serious story and need something happy to read. I've never been a super happy person, I'm what you might call pessimistic (as opposed to my husband, the eternal optimist). My stories are a way to escape that negativity, to write the happy, perfect scene.
So I could write everything down that's on my mind, but that would just be pages of jumbled thoughts, worries, reminders, and song lyrics. I'm pretty sure no one, not even my best friend, would want to buy that, not even for $0.99 on her e-reader.
Anyway, if I wrote down everything that was on my mind, my blog would look like my Twitter feed but crazier. For example, just on the way to work this morning, these things popped in my head.
-At least I wasn't the last person in the carpool lane this morning.
-Wow, that song lyric sounds just like me.
-How many hours is it until I can go to happy hour?
-I got four hours of sleep last night. That's probably not normal.
-Did I let the dog in the house?
-Did I put the dog in his crate?
-Do my son's teachers notice that he never wears socks?
-I can't believe I put vanilla almond milk in my coffee this morning, then had to dump it out and make a new cup.
-How long as that almond milk been in the fridge?
-I love my Keurig.
-I forgot to put that quilt in the dryer last night. And this morning. Now it's probably really smelly and I'll have to wash it again.
-Will my kids let me take a nap tomorrow?
-"Cold as fire baby, hot as ice. If you've ever been to heaven this is twice as nice... break it down, break it dow-own. break it down..." -Britney Spears
-Why do Britney Spears songs pop into my head at random?
-I hope work is quiet today.
-I hope my mother-in-law remembers to pick Josh up from school.
-I need to talk to BFF about the weird dream I had last night.
-I just blew through a yellow light. I don't think it turned red though.
-I'm in the work parking lot now. How did I get here without noticing?
-Crap! I left my coffee in the car.
So the thing is, I want to write a novel. Not the Great American Novel. Not a novel to turn into a movie like Twilight or The Hunger Games or The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. I like writing fluffy, cute, kind of funny stories with an endearing main character with lots of self-confidence who falls in love with her dream guy. The kind of stories I immediately start reading when I finish a serious story and need something happy to read. I've never been a super happy person, I'm what you might call pessimistic (as opposed to my husband, the eternal optimist). My stories are a way to escape that negativity, to write the happy, perfect scene.
So I could write everything down that's on my mind, but that would just be pages of jumbled thoughts, worries, reminders, and song lyrics. I'm pretty sure no one, not even my best friend, would want to buy that, not even for $0.99 on her e-reader.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
My life is a sitcom.
I have this idea in my head of what an ideal morning would look like. I would wake up at seven AM, fully rested (in an ideal world, I am a morning person), having gone to bed at eleven and promptly fallen asleep without medical assistance. Slipping on my slippers, I would glide down the stairs to prepare my cup of coffee and make myself scrambled eggs and toast. Once prepared, I would sit at my dining room table, with my coffee and Lucky magazine, peacefully enjoying my breakfast in total silence.
At 8:15, I would wake up my darling children, who would greet me with a smile and a, "good morning, mommy!" Bright-eyed, they would use the bathroom, remembering to flush and wash their hands. Gleefully, they would trollop down the stairs, sitting quietly at the table, hands folded, as I cook their well-balanced breakfast of organic, cage-free eggs, freshly-squeezed orange juice, organic homemade whole wheat toast, and pesticide-free fruit picked from my garden. They eat so peacefully, so quietly, sitting statue-like at the table without getting up, that I am able to take a shower, get dressed, moisturize, and blow-dry my hair without anyone creeping into the bathroom.
At 8:45, the children would rinse their BPA-free plastic plates and forks in the sink, place them in the dishwasher, and retreat to their rooms to get dressed for the day. Having chosen their clothes the night before, they will quickly put them on, including undershirts and socks. They would comb their hair, and my daughter would ask for a clip to keep her bangs out of her eyes (which she would then leave in place the remainder of the day).
We would all descend into the living room quietly, put on our shoes, coats, hats, and mittens, all of which are easily found and coordinating colors. We would pick up our bags and walk quietly out the door. Once in the car, daughter would allow me to lift her into her car seat and strap her in. My son would climb in and immediately sit in his seat, allowing me to strap him in quietly. With the turn of the engine, calm, classical music would play at a moderate volume through the speakers. We will talk, in calm voices, about what we will be doing during the day. I will arrive at my son's school on time, perhaps the second or third car in the carpool line. I would drop him off, as he hugs and kisses me goodbye and tells me he loves me. Then my daughter and I would go about our morning, running errands (during which she sits comfortable in the grocery cart as we walk slowly down each aisle, sweetly reciting the items we need).
Unfortunately, my morning is never picture-perfect. For example, this morning the kids wake up before me, and having left the gate open last night, both bound down the stairs loudly (followed by the big, black dog - notice he is missing from the ideal scenario). I open my eyes from my over-the-counter medically induced slumber, feeling like I am still half-asleep, force myself out from under the comforter quickly as my son yells up the stairs, "Mo-oom! Your daughter peed on the sofa!" (this is how he refers to his sister when she misbehaves).
I grab clean clothes for her out of the laundry basket in my room (clothes are folded, but not put away). Strip her down, clean her up, put her in clean clothes for the day. Blot the sofa with an entire roll of paper towels. I don't have time to get out the cleaner (it's already 8:20 and I have yet to shower) so after blotting, I swiftly flip the cushion over. Good as new (and look! I found the missing piece of our advent calendar). I put the dog in the (muddy) yard, pop some frozen waffles in the toaster, stop the kids from dragging a dining room chair into the kitchen, assuring them that there is no powdered sugar anywhere in the cabinet. I smack the warm, plain frozen waffles onto plates and hand them to the kids in the living room where they are playing on the computer (Disney is educational, right?)
I hop in the shower, and there is my daughter waiting for me when I get out. She has her plate with her waffle, now covered in powdered sugar (where did they find it??) with a juice box. My daughter can't stand to eat alone. She follows me into my room, where she puts her plate down and tells me she has to use the potty (again?). She strips off her tiny jeggings and Dora underwear before hopping on the potty. I then, still naked and wrapped in a towel, help her put everything back on and gently (forcefully) guide (push) her out of my bedroom and close and lock the door.
This is my quiet time.
I turn on Al Roker and the rest of the Today show crew as I scramble to put on my (non-matching) underwear, tank top, leggings ($5 from the kid's department at Target), and (wrinkled) black dress. I throw on my (OMG so comfortable) Uggs, slap some deodorant under my arms and moisturizer on my face, mousse in my hair. I spend about 2 minutes blow-drying my (super-fine and thin) hair, race down the stairs and toss my daughter (who is chasing her brother around the house, each carrying a toy sword) her Dora the Explorer boots (no socks) and we race out the door at 9:00 am, about the time I'm supposed to walk through the door at work. Meanwhile, my son has decided he can somehow magically get inside the television and will stop at nothing in this pursuit. Dressed in pretend armour, a hook on one hand and sword in the other (at least he's not in the Tinkerbell dress today), he is reciting spells. I kiss him goodbye (it's his day off school and he gets to stay home with his aunt).
It's not perfect. It's just my life.
I think someone is secretly filming it so others can watch and laugh and talk about how much more normal their lives are by comparison.
I don't think I could handle normal, though. I'm an anxiety-induced insomniac mess of a mother with an ADHD husband and they are spirited and (in my daughter's case) hyper-energetic kids.
But we wouldn't have it any other way. At least, I don't think we would.
I just wish I could enjoy my morning coffee in peace and quiet.
At 8:15, I would wake up my darling children, who would greet me with a smile and a, "good morning, mommy!" Bright-eyed, they would use the bathroom, remembering to flush and wash their hands. Gleefully, they would trollop down the stairs, sitting quietly at the table, hands folded, as I cook their well-balanced breakfast of organic, cage-free eggs, freshly-squeezed orange juice, organic homemade whole wheat toast, and pesticide-free fruit picked from my garden. They eat so peacefully, so quietly, sitting statue-like at the table without getting up, that I am able to take a shower, get dressed, moisturize, and blow-dry my hair without anyone creeping into the bathroom.
At 8:45, the children would rinse their BPA-free plastic plates and forks in the sink, place them in the dishwasher, and retreat to their rooms to get dressed for the day. Having chosen their clothes the night before, they will quickly put them on, including undershirts and socks. They would comb their hair, and my daughter would ask for a clip to keep her bangs out of her eyes (which she would then leave in place the remainder of the day).
We would all descend into the living room quietly, put on our shoes, coats, hats, and mittens, all of which are easily found and coordinating colors. We would pick up our bags and walk quietly out the door. Once in the car, daughter would allow me to lift her into her car seat and strap her in. My son would climb in and immediately sit in his seat, allowing me to strap him in quietly. With the turn of the engine, calm, classical music would play at a moderate volume through the speakers. We will talk, in calm voices, about what we will be doing during the day. I will arrive at my son's school on time, perhaps the second or third car in the carpool line. I would drop him off, as he hugs and kisses me goodbye and tells me he loves me. Then my daughter and I would go about our morning, running errands (during which she sits comfortable in the grocery cart as we walk slowly down each aisle, sweetly reciting the items we need).
Unfortunately, my morning is never picture-perfect. For example, this morning the kids wake up before me, and having left the gate open last night, both bound down the stairs loudly (followed by the big, black dog - notice he is missing from the ideal scenario). I open my eyes from my over-the-counter medically induced slumber, feeling like I am still half-asleep, force myself out from under the comforter quickly as my son yells up the stairs, "Mo-oom! Your daughter peed on the sofa!" (this is how he refers to his sister when she misbehaves).
I grab clean clothes for her out of the laundry basket in my room (clothes are folded, but not put away). Strip her down, clean her up, put her in clean clothes for the day. Blot the sofa with an entire roll of paper towels. I don't have time to get out the cleaner (it's already 8:20 and I have yet to shower) so after blotting, I swiftly flip the cushion over. Good as new (and look! I found the missing piece of our advent calendar). I put the dog in the (muddy) yard, pop some frozen waffles in the toaster, stop the kids from dragging a dining room chair into the kitchen, assuring them that there is no powdered sugar anywhere in the cabinet. I smack the warm, plain frozen waffles onto plates and hand them to the kids in the living room where they are playing on the computer (Disney is educational, right?)
I hop in the shower, and there is my daughter waiting for me when I get out. She has her plate with her waffle, now covered in powdered sugar (where did they find it??) with a juice box. My daughter can't stand to eat alone. She follows me into my room, where she puts her plate down and tells me she has to use the potty (again?). She strips off her tiny jeggings and Dora underwear before hopping on the potty. I then, still naked and wrapped in a towel, help her put everything back on and gently (forcefully) guide (push) her out of my bedroom and close and lock the door.
This is my quiet time.
I turn on Al Roker and the rest of the Today show crew as I scramble to put on my (non-matching) underwear, tank top, leggings ($5 from the kid's department at Target), and (wrinkled) black dress. I throw on my (OMG so comfortable) Uggs, slap some deodorant under my arms and moisturizer on my face, mousse in my hair. I spend about 2 minutes blow-drying my (super-fine and thin) hair, race down the stairs and toss my daughter (who is chasing her brother around the house, each carrying a toy sword) her Dora the Explorer boots (no socks) and we race out the door at 9:00 am, about the time I'm supposed to walk through the door at work. Meanwhile, my son has decided he can somehow magically get inside the television and will stop at nothing in this pursuit. Dressed in pretend armour, a hook on one hand and sword in the other (at least he's not in the Tinkerbell dress today), he is reciting spells. I kiss him goodbye (it's his day off school and he gets to stay home with his aunt).
It's not perfect. It's just my life.
I think someone is secretly filming it so others can watch and laugh and talk about how much more normal their lives are by comparison.
I don't think I could handle normal, though. I'm an anxiety-induced insomniac mess of a mother with an ADHD husband and they are spirited and (in my daughter's case) hyper-energetic kids.
But we wouldn't have it any other way. At least, I don't think we would.
I just wish I could enjoy my morning coffee in peace and quiet.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
It's just me.
In twenty-eight years, I have been a lot of people. A sweet child, a mouthy teenager, a respectful adult. I've been a skater girl (who never owned a skateboard, but bought a lot of clothes at Pacific Sunwear), a punk girl (Blink 182, anyone?), and a country girl (my parents will never let me live that down).
I've been a mean girl, shutting out someone who hurt me, and a forgiving girl, who learned to let people back in. I've been a groupie (that was fun), a party girl (alcohol only, please), a clubbing girl (it was college). I've been the peacemaker, trying to heal relationships and feeling guilty when I couldn't. I've been depressed, spending weeks in bed crying and hardly coming out for school or food. I've been blissfully happy and I know what it's like to cut yourself just to watch it bleed. I've defeated some demons and learned to manage others. I've been infatuated (for longer than I'd like to admit), I've loved (sometimes without admitting it to myself), I've had my heart broken. I've spent years trying to please others and thinking it would make me happy. Sometimes it did.
I've been a mean girl, shutting out someone who hurt me, and a forgiving girl, who learned to let people back in. I've been a groupie (that was fun), a party girl (alcohol only, please), a clubbing girl (it was college). I've been the peacemaker, trying to heal relationships and feeling guilty when I couldn't. I've been depressed, spending weeks in bed crying and hardly coming out for school or food. I've been blissfully happy and I know what it's like to cut yourself just to watch it bleed. I've defeated some demons and learned to manage others. I've been infatuated (for longer than I'd like to admit), I've loved (sometimes without admitting it to myself), I've had my heart broken. I've spent years trying to please others and thinking it would make me happy. Sometimes it did.
Who am I now? I'm a person with a lot of flaws. I don't have a perfect body, perfect face, perfect personality. I do have a much better idea of who I am and I can accept that. I'm clumsy, not always good with words, anxious. I talk too much when I'm nervous, I interrupt people. I'm awkward. I stay awake all night sometimes because I can't turn my brain off. I enjoy naps. I love my children unconditionally and cannot stay mad at them. Sometimes I'm too strict, sometimes I'm too easy. Sometimes I stand up for myself and my beliefs, but sometimes I just smile and nod. I know it's wrong to gossip and feel terrible when I do it, but do it anyway. I obsess over tiny things (and drive my best friend or mother crazy by talking certain topics to death).
I still like to be the peacemaker. I like to help but don't like being taken advantage of. I like positive affirmations from the people in my life. I wish I had more time to volunteer. I like working and would be a terrible stay at home mom - missing my kids while I'm at work makes me appreciate my time with them more. I try to be a kind person. I try to be less judgmental.
The older I get, the more self-awareness I have. This is mostly good, but sometimes makes me over-analyze every aspect of every relationship I have. It's also made me more introverted. I have just a few close friends, but I love and cherish them and would do anything for them. Happy hours with my 2 closest girlfriends are a mandatory part of my life; it is my therapy.
I don't think I've always made the right choices in my life, but have no regrets. I like my life. I like who I am. I'm learning that I can't make everyone like me and that's ok. I am learning to accept and embrace my flaws. I'm learning to be a better mother, wife, daughter, sister, and friend. I am far, far from perfect, but now I embrace the madness. I don't need to hide my true self. I'm not scary or intimidating. I'm not ashamed or scared.
It's just me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)