I think I have PTFD

PTFD- Post-traumatic Fat Disorder

I've come to terms with my weight. Would I like to lose some? Absolutely! But I don't hate myself because of it. However, clothes shopping can make my embrace waiver and it goes back to growing up.

I didn't know plus-sized stores existed. I didn't think that they sold jeans to fit me (and I was an 18 then!) Okay, I take that back. I knew jeans with elastic waistbands fit me, but those are old lady jeans. So, instead of jeans, I wore stirrup pants. Cuz, you know, that was waaaaayyyy cooler than old lady jeans. But they fit.

I'm okay with top shopping, but when it comes time to get bottoms, I panic. They have to be *just right* and never, ever have elastic waistbands, because I'm still not old. My husband's grandfather wanted to buy me jeans for Christmas one year, so I told him what size and that I didn't like elastic in the waistband. His old bitty of a girlfriend went shopping for him and bought me jeans with an elastic waistband. When I asked for the receipt to return them, she said "When someone is your size, they have to have elastic waistbands!"  Screw you, bitch. None of my other jeans do and they are my size.

I'm really freaking out now though and dealing with body image issues because of my pregnancy. With my daughter, I lost 18 pounds and didn't start to gain until my 3rd trimester, so my pants fit me well into summer. I didn't need to buy pants until it got warm, so I bought several pairs of cotton capris with elastic waistbands (which is okay, it's just jeans that give me trouble.) Well, now this is baby number 2 and I popped out way sooner and even though I did lose 15 pounds, it's already coming back (thankfully, very slowly) and I've found myself in unbuttoned blue jeans with 2inches of snow on the ground.

I refuse to buy fat pants. 

Letter to my Second Child- Gender

My Dearest Baby,

I'm going this afternoon for my anatomy ultrasound and will hopefully find out if you are a girl or a boy. That is assuming that you'll show us, because you are quite the spunky little mover and enjoy kicking me hard in the bladder. I have a feeling that you are a boy and, I shouldn't tell you this, but that scares me some. Not that I love you any less for it, because I love you and your sister more than anything; but because I don't know how to raise a boy. I'm a girl, I have a girl, I'm a Girl Scout Leader, most of my friends are girls. I know girls. I don't know boys, so how can I raise you without you feeling hurt or left out if I can't relate to you.

I know I'm probably over thinking this (which I usually do) because women everywhere raise boys- single child boys, boys with brothers, boys with sisters, boys with both brothers and sisters... and they turn out okay.

I guess it's not so much having a boy, it's my fear of being able to raise a boy to be a man. Because honestly, not all boys grow up to be men. I want to raise you to be respectful, but not afraid to express yourself. I want you to treat women gentlemanly, but I don't want you to look at them as weaker and needing to be submissive to you. I want you to learn to listen to others' thoughts, concerns and opinions and care about how they feel. I want you to date "nice girls" and not skanky ones that you only date so you can bang them in the backseat of the car (which will probably be the 1994 Escort, because that thing is never going to die.) I want you to have passions and interests and follow your heart. I want you to be driven and motivated. I don't want your world to be ruled by beer, or cigarettes or god-forbid, drugs. I want you to be strong enough and convicted enough to say no. I want you to be able to say no to your friends when you don't agree with what they are doing.

I want you to be close to your sister and trust each other and support each other. I want you to grow up and talk on the phone or go out to lunch with each other. Your uncle was grown by the time I was born, so that's a dynamic I don't understand, so how can I teach it to you?

I hope I do right by you, baby. I want you to know how special you are and I hope I can help you grow into the man you're meant to be.

Love, Mom.

Letters to My Daughter

I've struggled with my weight since I was 10 years old and it's almost always gone up and never down. My mom used to yell at me that I would die young and I told her that I didn't care. But, now my life isn't mine. My life belongs to my daughter and the new child growing in me.

 

I joined a gym and gained weight. I stopped drinking pop (most of the time) and I gain weight. I don't buy chips, candy or cookies for the house and gained weight. I feel kinda hopeless.

 

I know it's kind of morbid, but I worry about dying and leaving my children, but not just because of my weight. People die unexpectedly every day. My step-nephew, at 17 years old, got in his truck to drive to work, hit black ice, ended up in a ditch, walked for help and later died from internal bleeding.

 

There's also been two incidents in the news where pregnant women ended up brain dead, so you never know. You never know.

 

 We never know when our number will be up. We like to think that we will die old, after a life well-lived, and that's probably true for most of us; but life doesn't come with a written guarantee.

 

We look forward and think about future milestones- when our kids graduate high school, go to college, start their careers, get married, have babies etc. We plan on being there, but it doesn't always happen. When I got engaged, I was so excited that my dad was doing well. He'd dance with me at my wedding (amid protest, cuz that wasn't his thing.) But he'd be there. Then, almost 6 months to the day, he had a stroke and didn't make it.

 

So, again, I don't want to be morbid, but I want to leave something for my kids. My own words, to tell them the things they need to know- how much I love them, how to know that person is "the one," how to parent a child, how important school is... When parents find out that they have a terminal illness, they create cards for their kids' birthdays, graduation, wedding days.. every milestone they will miss. Well, I suck at cards. I suck at pen and paper writing in general. Even before we had a computer, I sucked at it. I always wanted a pen pal, but then I learned that you have to write letters and I was all like, "screw that."

 

But, my blog, I can handle that. Maybe at some point, I'll turn them into a book for each of my kids.

 

So, welcome to my new series- Letters to my Children

 

My Dearest Aly,

 

My world started the moment I heard your first cry. When you cried, I cried. I held you all night long that first night. It took your dad a little longer to see the magic in you, but that's okay- Moms are born with their babies; Dad have to be cultivated and grown, but you can look at the pictures and tell he's smitten with you.

You are my best friend. You make me laugh and smile more than anyone else. It melts my heart when I heard you calling, "Nommy! Nommy!" I adore the way you wrap your arms around me and gently pat the backs of my arms (much like I pat your back, but your arms aren't long enough yet!) You're awful tight with hugs and kisses, so I appreciate them extra.

If for some reason, you're reading this and I'm no long here, know that my last thought will be about you are your sibling/s, because my life started with you and it will end with you. My love for you will keep us together until the end of time.

Writer's Workshop- Spoiled

I'm kinda a day late and a dollar short, but I wanted to join into Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop this week.

 

The Prompts:

1.) A blog post inspired by the word: Spoiled.
2.) A favorite candy when you were a child. Is it still a favorite?
3.) You know you’re getting old when…
4.) Something that frustrates you.
5.) A time a stranger helped you.

 

Before I was a mom, I said all those, "never"s and "always" that a non-mom says: "My children will NEVER sleep in my bed." "My children will always have a bedtime that we stick to." "My children will never watch tv." "My children aren't going to have a ton of toys." "We're not going to hold her while she sleep" (this one actually caused an argument in my hospital room when she was born. My MIL didn't like it when I told her to put the baby down.) Yeah, I know. Hilarious right? My kid is S-P-O-I-L-E-D!

Here she is eating take-out, in front of the tv, wearing mardi gras glasses, because she like sunglasses, so she has a billion pairs. Don't forget her beads and slap bracelets, because she likes those too and also has a billion or so.

 

She goes to sleep, most nights, in our bed and then we carry her to hers. Sometimes, she wakes up and gets back in bed with us. I always said that she would never sleep in our bed, but when you look into those sad, little eyes, you just melt into a puddle of goo.

 

Speaking of sleeping, she used to nap on top of my mom (and still does occasionally.) My mom blames it on the colic she had as a newborn.

 

My husband yells about the abundance of toys. Toys, toys, toys everywhere!

 

One of the first words she mastered- Cookies. And, hey, I'm a student of psychology, so I believe in positive reinforcement. "Here, kid, here's your cookie."

 

My mom just baked her cupcakes yesterday, because she kept following her around the kitchen saying, "cupcake." My mom rarely cooks or bakes, btw

 

The truth: I really don't care that she's spoiled. One day, she'll stop wanting to sleep in my bed. The toys will be replaced by electronics and she loves to eat fruits and veggies, so then, so what if she wants a cupcake or cookie?

 

My only concern is that her world is going to change in August when drumroll.....

 

her new brother or sister gets here!

 

 

 

Writer's Workshop- my dog Odie.

1.) A childhood pet…where are they now?
2.) Share one of your “did that really just happen to me” life moments.
3.) The last thing you felt guilty about.
4.) List 6 things you do as a parent that you swore you would never do.
5.) The best part of my day is…


I got Odie when I was 3. He was born to Trixie, who my mom said was my dad's dog, because she had told him she didn't want a girl dog and he took her anyway. I named him Rascal, but my brother renamed him Odie, because he wasn't the brightest bulb in the box. Looking back now, I have a lot of guilt around Odie. He was a sweet, lovable dog, but he was an outside dog, so he didn't get as much love as he should have. When he got sick, his legs gave out in the back and I'd come home from High School musical practice and found him crying in a mud puddle in the rain. I lifted his 70lb body into his box and gave him a can of wet dog food. I reached in and petted his head and he licked my hand. My dad had him put to sleep the next morning and buried him behind my grandmother's house with his mom Trixie and his uncle, Hutch. I've often thought about him at the Rainbow Bridge. I hope he crossed with my Dad, but I'll be excited to give him the love he deserved here!

One of the hardest things I've ever done...

Is be pregnant. I threw up for 5 months. Lost 18lbs (a silver lining) from all the throwing up. I had horrible heartburn. My blood pressure was high. I swelled in the summer heat. My emotions went crazy. I burst into tears at work. I worried constantly. Then, I grew a 10.5 lbs baby that had to be cut out of me. If it sucked that bad, why am I doing this again?

Because when you hear that first cry, you totally forget the sucky parts.

Writer's Workshop- Friendship

Time for another installment of Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop

1.) What were you blogging about a year ago today? What has changed?
2.) A childhood friend.
3.) A hobby you would pursue if you were the type to pursue hobbies.
4.) A trend you’re not much a fan of.
5.) Something your child did or said this week that made you smile.

I've been really fascinated with friendship lately, because I've noticed, as an adult, I have a really, really hard time making friends. Like, really hard.

You see, in Elementary school, there were a plethora of kids to be friends with and it just happened, like magnets. I was BFFs with Danya and Frankie and Kayla and Wendi and Amanda and Cindy and Heather and it switched around from year to year.

Then we moved and I started Jr High across town and I went through the whole repertoire of friends: Brandi and Jessica and Des and Brandi again and Trina and Des again and Misty and Brandi again and we went through this friendship dance week after week after month until about 8th grade and Samantha and I clicked. Somewhere along the line, I think high school, we picked up Ryan (but I call him Froggie, because puberty made him "croak.") and we became a trio. I'm not sure how it happened, but I'm so thankful it did, because best friends are truly a part of your self. They are my soul mates. They know what I'm thinking or that something is wrong. I always hug them and tell them that I love them, because I do. I love them with every fiber of my being. The really special thing about them is that we've been best friends longer than we haven't. I mean, how many people can say that?