Thursday, March 26, 2009
Please bless I don't ever have to deal with anything worse than this, because this I can handle pretty well.
It all began in the wee hours when my body remembered how much it hates me. I spent the rest of the night moaning in the fetal position and cursing woman's curse (is that right? can you curse a curse?). The inevitable leg-aches followed accompanied by increased moaning and cursing. Normally at this point I would go for some serious Advil, but an upcoming surgery (yes, I said surgery--gives me chills, but probably not that big a deal) has prohibited me from taking all kinds of relieving medications.
Anywho, Charming eventually had to leave for some thing or other where he learns how to be a physical therapist bla-bla-bla, and the man forgot to say goodbye to me, which deprived me of my moment to remind him to drive safely. Because (as all you married women know) husbands are known to forget to drive safe unless their wives beg them to every morning. You know--to help them to think of their family while they're taking those sharp turns on icy corners and such. So in the mean time there I was huddled in bed in pain and telling myself not to have a panic attack while I imagined all kinds of horrific roadside scenes, all involving Charming (who also forgot to take the cell phone, so I could see him stranded and trying to walk for help in the middle of the North Dakota wasteland and falling into a snow drift in exhaustion and then slowly freezing to death--all because I didn't remind him to be safe).
Inevitably the small children woke up, and finding me still in bed (no, I was not lazy, just in pain), they saw their freedom for what it was and the house became a free-for-all. Lou Lou climbed all over me and I hardly even noticed, I was too busy hugging the heating pad. Finally the girls started saying things like "Mama, I'm hungry." or "Thirsty Mama!" No mother in the world can resist this kind of supplication for long, so I was soon up and nourishing the children. As I put Lou Lou into her seat, I noticed that she had scribbled with a pen all over her cute, although non-chubby thighs. I pointed it out to her and she nodded enthusiastically, while Buttercup noted out loud that Lou Lou's body was no longer a temple because she had scribbled on it. (I love those little moments that prove FHE is sinking in.) I sighed and trudged off to do the dishes, when I looked down, and noticed that Lou Lou had not only defiled her own temple, she had pretty much done a spray-paint job on mine. She had colored all up and down my arm and I hadn't even noticed.
I was still trying not to panic about the whole Charming-on-the-side-of-the-road-thing, when the phone rang and it was Charming himself saying to keep an eye on the news since the Missouri River was flooding and people all over the city were sandbagging and evacuating. Although relieved to find that Charming had survived his jaunt down the road, this turn of events was not good for my psyche. I figured we were fine, but kept checking the tv periodically. I thought if we had to evacuate in a hurry, what would I do? What would I save? What should I do at this very moment? The answer was simple: do the dishes. There was no way I was going to leave my house dirty--I just couldn't handle the thought.
As the morning progressed I began receiving worried phone calls from friends asking if I was all right. Finally someone called to say that reports were that we were to leave the area and go to higher ground. That was enough for me. Pretty much this was the sound I heard in my head for the next several minutes:
I was a cross of an insane, panicky woman thinking of the how-to-survive book I read last month and Mrs. Beaver from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe, wondering if I ought to bring the jam, or in my case--the bread, because heck, I made it, and I didn't want it to rot! Outwardly I was fine--just running up and down the stairs, moving things I really didn't want to get wet and throwing stuff in suitcases. While doing all this I was on the phone trying to get a hold of Charming, who was in a hospital basement somewhere blissfully helping some poor soul with their physical therapy needs. The man didn't have a cell phone so I just called the hospital and made them page him while I continued running around.
The girls in the mean time were excited to leave and go play somewhere else. Soon enough Charming made it home (much more calm than me--of course), and we high-tailed it to a friend's house safely located "on higher ground". We stayed there for a peaceful afternoon watching barbie movies and relaxing until we received word that all was probably well. So we went on home again, still on the alert that we should "be ready to evacuate at a moment's notice". So yeah, pretty much we were fine but I was still a tad tense.
Life must have been back to normal because I was already worrying about what to make for dinner. But then I decided on chocolate chip cookies; so yeah, it wasn't normal yet. This decision created much celebration in the children department and for once Buttercup ate all her dinner. I asked her if she wanted some spaghetti for a treat as a reward, and she became very upset. Children are so ungrateful these days...
The evening wound down with the girlies going to bed and Charming and I cuddling on the couch watching American Idol and just enjoying being together. We went to bed at 10:30--super early for us. As I slipped in between the sheets and snuggled into my pillow, my sigh of content turned into a sneer.
Lou Lou had also scribbled on my pillow. My beautiful ivory 500-thread-count pillow case.
Oh well, Charming laughed and we both went to sleep. Not so bad of a day. I survived it and I got cookies.
Monday, March 23, 2009
"Mama, can you tell me all about... the devil?"
(Insert creepy panic music here).
Yes, my precious little princess was spending her solitude pondering the workings of Satan. I shuddered and glanced around the room nervously, then asked her what she meant. She continued, "Why does he want to make little girls and boys be naughty?"
Something akin to a Sunday School lesson followed, ending with the two of us singing "I Lived in Heaven". I was relieved to note that Buttercup seemed to be leaning toward Jesus's team.
I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Monday, March 16, 2009
But you know, a girl like me can't stay small forever (I have a love/hate relationship with food). My new father-in-law bestowed upon Charming and I a joyfully large jar of his secret recipe chocolate truffle sauce. I know. We totally didn't stand a chance. I honestly believe that I gained 20 pounds within the first four months of my marriage--that's almost more than one pound a week! What can I say? Charming and I were living a life of pure pleasure.
Still, I had terrific plans for that summer to get in shape while Charming and I lived in California while he was installing satellite systems. After all, what was I going to do with all that spare time? I accomplished two big things that summer, and neither of them was losing weight. Number 1 was I learned how to cook; a fabulous skill mind you, but not handy in the weight loss department. Number 2 I. got. pregnant. And then my entire world fell apart. Please know, this was a planned pregnancy, not that it's any of your business, but I've found that people are often curious. However, I didn't plan on being nasty sick for 4 months and only being able to hold down sugary, fatty foods. After the main nausea went away all I had to do to keep it at arm's length was to keep my stomach full. Very full. So full that it didn't just go straight to my hips but it went straight everywhere. I think it's safe to say I gained about sixty pounds before the baby was born. Yich. Might as well crumple up my self-esteem and throw it in the trash.
After motherhood struck I still had high hopes for getting rid of all that "baby weight" (more like pizza, chocolate shakes, and apple pie weight--I mean good grief, the baby only weighed 7 lbs. I guess I was hoping for a sixty pound baby...). I hoped and hoped and hoped. I hoped so much that I did early morning aerobics for about three weeks before PPD set in too strong for me to get out of bed. So I continued to live my life and hope that somehow that nasty weight would drop the heck off my bottom and help an anorexic or something.
AND THEN....tada! I was pregnant again! (Yes, also planned.) Luckily I was already so overweight I just kind of lingered around my starting weight. I maybe gained about 10 pounds overall--which, on top of what I was already carrying, seemed like no big deal. And then the baby came out and she was only 7 lbs too! (Somebody in heaven, throw me a bone.)
Hallelujah for my mother who offered to sign me up for WeightWatchers online. It gave me the boost and real hope I needed to get moving. It took me a super long time, lots of sweat and tears (the tears were a result of all the chocolate I wasn't eating), but I once again became Megs, comfortable in my own skin and with who I am. YAY!
But now for the last year I've still had that love/hate relationship with my food. I'm constantly working out, but apparently it's not enough for my body to love me (see here). I'm doing my best to live healthy and I think I'm doing an okay job. But I'm still yo-yoing here and there. It just feels like I have an appetite that won't be quenched. For years I've referred to myself as the bottomless pit--I can eat and eat and eat and only regret about six hours later for about five minutes. But on to happier thoughts...
Lately I've started two new medications that have had an interesting affect on my appetite. The first makes most foods seem disgusting (unless of course it's fatty or full of sugar). The second has strangely decreased my appetite (who knew it was possible?) and yet somehow has given me a nice full-perkiness in my womanly areas. I honestly think that without even trying I have lost about 4-5 pounds in the last two months (well, I guess I have been trying, but just doing the same ol' thing). Hurray! Now my only issue is, even though I get full super quick, if I do happen to like the food I've been eating, I'll just continue to feast until my plate is clear, or the pan is clear, or whatever. And then I'll feel very sick the rest of the day. Geesh--you'd think WeightWatchers had taught me more control than that--and that I'd take better advantage of such a situation?!
I'm working on it, I really am. Problem today is that I got home from a morning jaunt to the library famished, and proceeded to devour the leftover Chinese Chicken Salad from last night. The thing about salads is you think they don't matter, or count, or whatever. So of course I ate most the entire thing (hey--gotta leave something for Charming!) and now I feel sick.
Oh well. It was delicious. You should all partake.
My sister Jayni set up a cooking blog (yes, I know, another cooking blog, but this one is awesome! Or will be awesome when it gets going. The link is here, and also on the sidebar--Baking With Belle) for a class and made me a co-poster. The plan is to have a new post everyday, with different authors posting weekly. I love the idea because I've always got something new I've tried and want to share with the world, or some kind of an old favorite recipe that will change your life as you know it.
I've just posted the Chinese Chicken Salad recipe today and I'm pestering Jayni about setting the rest up. GOT THAT JAYNI? FINISH SETTING UP YOUR BLOG ALREADY SO PEOPLE CAN ENJOY THE DELICIOUSNESS!!!
I hope you all enjoyed my five-year weight loss history. Now I'll just go hide in a corner and be embarrassed because I've realized I probably said too much again.
That is all.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
There. I said it. Stupid, stupid, stupid place! Why would anyone choose to live in this frozen, barren, wasteland? There is nothing beautiful here, nothing noteworthy or of interest--at least, nothing noteworthy or of interest to me.
When you ask a local what the heck there is to do around here, they respond that "There's always Mount Rushmore". Let me remind the masses that Mount Rushmore is in South Dakota--a completely different state and about a seven hour drive from where I live.
I woke up on this March day, hoping to see some signs of warmth, or even just life outside. I wasn't expecting to go on a picnic or let my kids run through the sprinklers, I was just looking for a glimmer of hope.
But no. Of course not. OF COURSE IT WAS THIRTEEN DEGREES BELOW ZERO!!!
Hell has officially frozen over. It's a little place I like to call home...but only for one. more. year. (Insert evil smile here).
(PR disclaimer: The people in North Dakota are lovely. I mean no offense towards you or your homeland. I just hate this place.)
That is all.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Red Alert: This is a heavy-duty parenting post. Do not read any further if you cannot handle the joy.
BUTTERCUP CAN NOW OFFICIALLY WIPE HER OWN BOTTOM!
What can I say? I just got tired of doing it. I looked at her yesterday and thought, "You know what? The kid's almost 4 years old. Let her clean up her own dirty work."
At first the little princess was chagrined. She's used to sitting on her throne and doing her duty without reaping the consequences. Well I let her know that from now on, she can take care of her own kingdom! She whined a little more and sat on her throne a bit longer, but finally realized her "kingdom" needed to be wiped before she could continue with her princessing.
All is well. All is well.
Now all I have to do is convince Lou Lou that sitting on the potty is way better than squatting in a corner...
EDIT: Just to make it clear, Buttercup has been potty trained since she was 2 1/2 years old. She just hasn't liked to wipe her bum when necessary...
Thursday, March 5, 2009
The last few weeks have been somewhat stressful for me and when I get stressed I tend to drop something. Usually it is the laundry and there are piles of clothes all over the house that need to be folded up and put away, but strangely enough ALL of my laundry is done. Washed. Folded. Put away in drawers. I've also vacuumed this week (I know, who invaded megs' body?) and have zealously swept the kitchen floor everyday. I've cooked delicious dinners and read stories to my children. You'd think I was nesting or something--but let me be the first to assure you that I am not pregnant (to my monthly chagrin).
But. BUT. I have dropped the whole spending-time-on-the-computer-in-order-to-fill-my-hormotional-days-with-false-joy-and-meaning thing.
It's kind of strange--I thought I was addicted to the computer and keeping in touch with friends. But it's been nice to have a bit of a break from my online self and be present with my family. As I am therapeutically spewing all this out onto the computer screen, I see that all of this is really quite a positive thing, not really the "I've-dropped-the-ball" issue I thought it was. And yet I will say it again: I love to blog and I wish I did it more. Perhaps I will. Now you can all stop rolling your eyes and cheer me on. I can hear all of your millions (haha) of enthusiastic whisper-screams echoing in the distance: "Go Megs! You're amazing! You can blog! We can't survive without your endless wit and randomness and somewhat-complaining every once in a while! WE LOVE YOU!!!"
A girl can dream can't she?
Okay. I have another blog coming up soon, but I thought the masses could use a break from my verbal prowess for a few hours.
That is all.