Well that time of year has arrived..... the annual exams that I never study for, but hope I pass with flying colors.
I was impressed at how quickly it has all gone. Got some blood drawn to see if I have any underlying issues to why this weight is not falling off as quick as I would like it to be, had my "womanly nether-regions" check done, and suffered through one of the most uncomfortable exams women go through (if the Gynecologist visit was not uncomfortable enough, that is).... my mammogram. Yep, all of these tests are something we never get the chance to study for, nor have a cheat-sheet to refer to. We just get them done and hope for the best.
Well, I got my blood tests done and I am obviously healthy. All tests were in the normal range. There was only one area that was a cause for concern and I have to get some more blood drawn in a month. Apparently, something that is related to my liver is off from what they want to consider as normal. It is not a serious difference and they are attributing it to the fact that I did some serious fasting prior to the test and even avoided drinking anything until I had the test done in the afternoon and it was probably from a slight dehydration that I put myself through. Regardless of what they assume to be the cause.... I get to go back in a month to be rechecked for that. I am still waiting for my other results from the Gynecologist and that will be called in to me by sometime later today. I was glad that everything was in the normal range, but upset that there is no solid answer to why I am having a hard time losing this excess weight. I guess I am cursed with a normal thyroid, a good level of cholesterol (mine was 165), no high blood sugar count, normal blood count (white to red), and no medical reason that made me gain all this weight except for age and a lousy metabolism that is going to get slower the older I get. Of course, my insatiable need to have chocolate does not help, but I have not had any since the beginning of the month and I still can't change my weight number any faster (a pound here, a pound there...UGH! This is gonna take forever!!)
What I did manage to get done rather quickly this year was that annual Mammogram screening. I am not sure if there is a better system that the hospital has for this test, or there are a fair number of women avoiding this test, but I called yesterday to make the appointment and got an appointment for this morning. Never to look a gift horse in the mouth, I grabbed the opportunity to get it done. I just happen to be kicking myself because I accidentally overslept this morning and had to race like an Indy race car driver to the hospital. I got there a little late, but they still took me in. On a side note..... why all the formalities when going to the hospital anyway? I just need to get a test done, but we get this stupid bar-code bracelet with a pile of paperwork that seems more like a waste of trees than it is necessary. Just registering for this test took longer than the actual test. Well, regardless of the wasted time registering... I got my test done.
Let me tell you one thing.... I am apparently entertaining when it comes to embarrassing tests being performed on me. I had the technician laughing at my expense. Besides being forced to wear a hospital gown backwards to cover the ample chest region, I am required to be a 70's bra-less wonder in a room with other bra-less women. Sorry people, I am a fan of my supportive gear and just hanging freely is not my cup 'o tea. Then, you get placed in a room with a machine that should be better utilized to crush cars at a junk yard and I have to place a part of me in that contraption to flatten what is not meant to be pressed like a wrinkled shirt and hold still. Heck the technician laughed when she heard me squeak a gasp when she told me to hold my breath for what I believe is an eternity. Really.... does this person realize that being squeezed makes it hard to breathe? After damn near passing out, I get the okay to breathe again and the crushing pressure starts to ease. Whew! Feeling better. Then DAMN! I have to do this 3 more times because pressing my breast into a sheet of paper was not good enough one time. No wonder gravity gets a leg up on women after they turn 40. The flattening, crushing and pulling of the skin eventually gives up with repeated acts. Besides the notion that this body part that they are checking is personal and never flashed in public to people I do not know (at least in my world they are), I have a technician handling them.... a female technician. Talk about embarrassing!!!! Really? How does she talk about her day to her significant other?
"How was your day, dear?".... "Oh, the same old thing.... handle strange women's breasts to position them in a crushing mammogram machine all day. You have seen one breast, you have seen them all. How was your day?"
While I understand the importance of getting this test done every year.... I just apparently had a little too much time to think about all the other angles that play into the experience. I now just get to wait to see if I passed this test, too. Then I get to wait another year to do this again.... Oh joy! Fingers crossed that I pass this test.... I accidentally breathed when I shouldn't have on one of the required views that were taken. I could not help it. The shock of being squeezed sucked the air right out of me. Oh well.... the waiting game has begun. In closing..... I am proud to say I did my part in thinking pink. To all those ladies out there.... I hope you are doing yours.
Have a great day and thanks for reading!!!
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Friday, January 25, 2013
Yet another thought flush blog....
Good morning! I have a few things I have that I been needing to "floss" from my mind. Basically, everything I am planning on sharing is just a load of muck that is bogging me down that needs to be released, and flushed down so I can face the next thing that comes my way.... so here goes....
After DH's temper tantrum a few days ago... His pride is far too in tact to consider apologizing for his attitude, so he has not, but getting the silent treatment is far better than getting attitude. Since there is zero plans for him to acknowledge that I was right and that both DD and I deserve an apology... he is doing the usual avoiding of the topic and remain quiet about it until he thinks I will forget what happened and then return to his usual self. I really would hate to tell him that this elephant never forgets. I can forgive, but I rarely forget. Regardless that I have a steel trap of a mind and will have this event locked in my memory banks... I will not throw it in his face for all eternity, nor would I revert back to retelling to story as a tool to try to get a leg up in a future argument.
With this recent round of the silent treatment with a slow return to normal behavior, I have managed to find yet another thing to fill my day..... I took up crochet again. I have managed to crochet a few hats (6 to be exact) and I am working on a scarf. I am not a proficient "crafter". I learn just enough of the basics to make something and rarely ever venture beyond that. In the past, I made a few afghans and I even knitted a scarf or two, but I never crocheted a hat, so I spent a little time on YouTube and learned a simple pattern. Then I ventured onto learning how to crochet a flower to finish a hat that desperately needed an embellishment. Between doing housework, cooking meals, tracking my diet, reading books (yes, still hooked in the contemporary romance/chic lit genre), hitting the gym three times a week, and working part time at the salon.... I get to add an insatiable need to make things with my hands. It is just that currently I decided to crochet stuff. Well, add in my occasional blogging and my apparent talent to frustrate my husband.... I think I filled my plate each day. I still have a few jewelry projects that I have to deal with (I am the current jewelry repair go-to person for the girls at work), but if you have not noticed by this list of things I am doing.... I am a screaming textbook case of attention deficit disorder. Gee, I might have a few more minutes in my day to pick up my paints and paint some glass, too. I call these little projects "instant gratification projects"... Something is made in a remotely short amount of time. It is just that this darn scarf is going to take more than a couple of hours to complete, but it matches one of the hats I made and I will probably never make another one like it (takes a ton of yarn to make, but it is just sooooooo puffy).
Darn shame that every hobby I have costs money. With the current slump in commission-earning work at the salon.... I am so po' that I cannot afford the "or' that finishes the spelling of the word "poor". Who knew that yarn can get expensive? Heck, my stint in making jewelry can cost me a small fortune. I refuse to use cheap beads and materials. A bracelet that I made for a friend (which is done BTW) was a $20 investment in materials and I am guesstimating for the filament that I used since it did not take me to use the whole spool to make the bracelet. Stuff I made for Christmas to give away to co-workers (which I never finished making something for everyone I work with - which is a large group of professionals with varying schedules), ranged somewhere between $15 and $20 in materials for each thing. Of course, it was not that big of a hit to my mad money stash since I was dealing with the increase of commission-based work because of the holidays. Now with this new fascination with working with yarn..... I am feeling the pinch in more than just the cramps in my hands. The only benefit to this habit of always doing something is that I am staying remotely sane. I have not been focusing on all the little things that have piled up into a mountain of despair that can make an average person reach for the bottle or beg for a prescription to mask the misery in order to function. I guess that is because I refuse to have too much "down time" to let the weight of my world come crashing down on me.
I just have not found a schedule to all this mayhem I am taking on. I am seriously lacking focus on one task at a time. For the past few days.... I do things in 30 minute bursts. 30 minutes of cleaning, 30 minutes to read a chapter or two (sometimes more if they are short chapters), 30 minutes of playing with the yarn, maybe a quick pop onto the computer for a game or two, then back around again. I fit in eating the most basic of meals and when I hit the gym..... that is the only thing (besides sleeping at night) that takes me longer than 30 minutes of my attention. Of course, I am reading a book while I am on the treadmill and then listening to my iPod when I am lifting weights. I have turned into the Rachael Ray of cooking.... the meals I make take only 30 minutes to make and I am multitasking when it comes to sitting down to eat a meal. I am yet again reading a book, but with this diet firmly in place.... I measure everything before eating and never go for seconds. I am just frustrated that with all of this going on..... I only manage to lose a pound or two in the process per week. Sigh, just thinking about how far I have gone and how much farther I have to go makes me believe that I will be dead before I attain that elusive goal weight I have in mind. Of course, with the constant bouncing around with these hand-taxing hobbies and eye-straining reading.... I will probably will not have to worry all that much when it comes to appearances. I will be blind with twisted, arthritic hands in no time. I have even became somewhat anti-social because I am too broke to go to most the the events I have been invited to go to. With my mad money fund almost in the negative, I am too stubborn to ask DH for some beer money for me to go out tomorrow to see some friends, but determined to try harder at being sociable at least once a month and tomorrow night I am going to be sociable. I will have to be sociable with ice water or a diet soda in my hand even though I would really like to have a beer. Free or a dollar for a water or soda is easier for me to afford than the $3.75 (without a tip) for a beer. I just hope that showing up to see friends is enough.
Well, my 30 minutes of flossing is over. Time to figure what to do next. The book I am reading is still in the developmental stage, so I might finish a chapter or two after I make myself a bowl of cereal. Then I will get some laundry going, crochet a little more on this scarf, get the shoveling of snow done, read a little more with my sandwich for lunch, vacuum a little, dust a little, and whatnot. I will figure it out. No gym for today. Got too much to do and shoveling that couple of inches of snow will be enough cardio for the day. Well, that and the random bursts of housecleaning. Thanks for reading my flossing moment. Have a great day!!!
After DH's temper tantrum a few days ago... His pride is far too in tact to consider apologizing for his attitude, so he has not, but getting the silent treatment is far better than getting attitude. Since there is zero plans for him to acknowledge that I was right and that both DD and I deserve an apology... he is doing the usual avoiding of the topic and remain quiet about it until he thinks I will forget what happened and then return to his usual self. I really would hate to tell him that this elephant never forgets. I can forgive, but I rarely forget. Regardless that I have a steel trap of a mind and will have this event locked in my memory banks... I will not throw it in his face for all eternity, nor would I revert back to retelling to story as a tool to try to get a leg up in a future argument.
With this recent round of the silent treatment with a slow return to normal behavior, I have managed to find yet another thing to fill my day..... I took up crochet again. I have managed to crochet a few hats (6 to be exact) and I am working on a scarf. I am not a proficient "crafter". I learn just enough of the basics to make something and rarely ever venture beyond that. In the past, I made a few afghans and I even knitted a scarf or two, but I never crocheted a hat, so I spent a little time on YouTube and learned a simple pattern. Then I ventured onto learning how to crochet a flower to finish a hat that desperately needed an embellishment. Between doing housework, cooking meals, tracking my diet, reading books (yes, still hooked in the contemporary romance/chic lit genre), hitting the gym three times a week, and working part time at the salon.... I get to add an insatiable need to make things with my hands. It is just that currently I decided to crochet stuff. Well, add in my occasional blogging and my apparent talent to frustrate my husband.... I think I filled my plate each day. I still have a few jewelry projects that I have to deal with (I am the current jewelry repair go-to person for the girls at work), but if you have not noticed by this list of things I am doing.... I am a screaming textbook case of attention deficit disorder. Gee, I might have a few more minutes in my day to pick up my paints and paint some glass, too. I call these little projects "instant gratification projects"... Something is made in a remotely short amount of time. It is just that this darn scarf is going to take more than a couple of hours to complete, but it matches one of the hats I made and I will probably never make another one like it (takes a ton of yarn to make, but it is just sooooooo puffy).
Darn shame that every hobby I have costs money. With the current slump in commission-earning work at the salon.... I am so po' that I cannot afford the "or' that finishes the spelling of the word "poor". Who knew that yarn can get expensive? Heck, my stint in making jewelry can cost me a small fortune. I refuse to use cheap beads and materials. A bracelet that I made for a friend (which is done BTW) was a $20 investment in materials and I am guesstimating for the filament that I used since it did not take me to use the whole spool to make the bracelet. Stuff I made for Christmas to give away to co-workers (which I never finished making something for everyone I work with - which is a large group of professionals with varying schedules), ranged somewhere between $15 and $20 in materials for each thing. Of course, it was not that big of a hit to my mad money stash since I was dealing with the increase of commission-based work because of the holidays. Now with this new fascination with working with yarn..... I am feeling the pinch in more than just the cramps in my hands. The only benefit to this habit of always doing something is that I am staying remotely sane. I have not been focusing on all the little things that have piled up into a mountain of despair that can make an average person reach for the bottle or beg for a prescription to mask the misery in order to function. I guess that is because I refuse to have too much "down time" to let the weight of my world come crashing down on me.
I just have not found a schedule to all this mayhem I am taking on. I am seriously lacking focus on one task at a time. For the past few days.... I do things in 30 minute bursts. 30 minutes of cleaning, 30 minutes to read a chapter or two (sometimes more if they are short chapters), 30 minutes of playing with the yarn, maybe a quick pop onto the computer for a game or two, then back around again. I fit in eating the most basic of meals and when I hit the gym..... that is the only thing (besides sleeping at night) that takes me longer than 30 minutes of my attention. Of course, I am reading a book while I am on the treadmill and then listening to my iPod when I am lifting weights. I have turned into the Rachael Ray of cooking.... the meals I make take only 30 minutes to make and I am multitasking when it comes to sitting down to eat a meal. I am yet again reading a book, but with this diet firmly in place.... I measure everything before eating and never go for seconds. I am just frustrated that with all of this going on..... I only manage to lose a pound or two in the process per week. Sigh, just thinking about how far I have gone and how much farther I have to go makes me believe that I will be dead before I attain that elusive goal weight I have in mind. Of course, with the constant bouncing around with these hand-taxing hobbies and eye-straining reading.... I will probably will not have to worry all that much when it comes to appearances. I will be blind with twisted, arthritic hands in no time. I have even became somewhat anti-social because I am too broke to go to most the the events I have been invited to go to. With my mad money fund almost in the negative, I am too stubborn to ask DH for some beer money for me to go out tomorrow to see some friends, but determined to try harder at being sociable at least once a month and tomorrow night I am going to be sociable. I will have to be sociable with ice water or a diet soda in my hand even though I would really like to have a beer. Free or a dollar for a water or soda is easier for me to afford than the $3.75 (without a tip) for a beer. I just hope that showing up to see friends is enough.
Well, my 30 minutes of flossing is over. Time to figure what to do next. The book I am reading is still in the developmental stage, so I might finish a chapter or two after I make myself a bowl of cereal. Then I will get some laundry going, crochet a little more on this scarf, get the shoveling of snow done, read a little more with my sandwich for lunch, vacuum a little, dust a little, and whatnot. I will figure it out. No gym for today. Got too much to do and shoveling that couple of inches of snow will be enough cardio for the day. Well, that and the random bursts of housecleaning. Thanks for reading my flossing moment. Have a great day!!!
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Learning a new way.....
Growing up... we learn how things are done. From something as simple as walking and talking to the more complex interactions with people and everything in between. What children see in the actions of the parents does mold the apparent roles of how a significant other is treated when the plunge is taken and you marry the one you choose to spend a large chunk of your life with. You can see this as the method of how a person colors within the lines.... some make an internal border to color within while others just use the lines as the border. Neither way is truly wrong, but the result ends up looking different. My question is.... is it possible to teach a person the other way of doing things in order to see how the end result could possibly be better for all?
Just this afternoon, DH comes home for lunch. I called him prior to his intended arrival to bring some cash to pay for his prescriptions that were filled, so I can pick them up. I would normally just pay for it with what I have in my wallet, but I seriously doubt the $3 I have in my wallet will cover the cost of his medications. Not allowed to use my credit card, I knew I did the right thing by calling him to ask for some money, so I thought that today was going to be another remotely calm day. I was right, but wrong at the same time.
DH came home, handed me the $20 to pay for his medications, reheated some leftovers from last night for his lunch and proceeded to eat his lunch. Suddenly, he felt compelled to seek out the appointment cards that he has from his doctors to look at when his next appointment was to be. He has a drawer that he keeps these papers in and opens the drawer to not see his stack of appointment cards. Losing patience, he proceeds to start having a temper tantrum over the missing things and begins screaming at me... accusing me that I moved his things. I calmly tell him that I did not touch his stuff because I know better. Since that is not a good enough answer, DH calls for DD to accuse her of moving his things. DD never saw his papers and never moved them and tells him that so. Obviously, this was the last spark to ignite the rage in DH as he continues to accuse me for his missing things with an even louder and meaner tone.
I take a minute to assess the situation and thought that since he crams his stuff in this drawer, it is quite possible that it fell behind the drawer and into the cabinet below. I walk over, open the lower cabinet and his papers were there. I handed them to him and walked away. I never heard a 'thank you' for finding his stuff, nor an apology for his tone towards me. His temper tantrum is over, he is back to being happy-go-lucky-DH again and announces that he is going back to work. I said nothing and he asked me why I was so quiet. I could not hold back what I was feeling and informed him that his attitude required an apology to me and DD. We never touched his stuff, we were accused and yelled at in a less than reasonable tone, and even after the proof was there that nobody touched his stuff... he apparently thought that his demeaning behavior is acceptable and that I just need to get over it like he did. Sorry DH.... I was not raised to be treated like trash that takes verbal blows when I was in the right. If I was wrong.... then I am at least big enough to acknowledge it and apologize for it.
Needless to say... DH took the $20 and left, telling me that he can pick up his own prescriptions. Of course, for added drama.... he slammed the door upon leaving. No apology for his behavior either.
I am just waiting for DH to let what I said sink in. Then he will apologize, but I think I have hit the point that I can no longer truly accept his apology and forget this event.
I called my brother for some advice. He is really good at getting a point across with very little effort. I see him as a word master of sorts. He knows exactly what to say that will leave no room for future argument. Well, my big brother pointed out something that I have noticed, but never realized that there is no real solution. DH's behavior is learned by what his parents done. I will say, without a doubt that his parents would deny until their dying breath that they behaved the same way. That the man of the house never has to apologize for anything... even if they are blatantly wrong in every sense of the word... and that the woman is required to accept this type of behavior and do everything in their power to avoid it again. Obviously, in my youth, I saw things far different than he did. My parents argued, but there was always a sense of respect for each other. Whomever was wrong and learned that they were, would apologize for it.... even learn from it. Especially from poor behavior.
What my big brother managed to teach me is that I need to have a tough skin when it comes to dealing with DH. My generous nature is something that rubs DH the wrong way, my reasonable attitude to be fair is obviously is another thing that rubs DH the wrong way, and expecting him to learn a new way is placing far too high of expectations on someone that refuses to raise the bar for this marriage. I am just not sure I can be so accommodating to someone that obviously thinks so little of me. Believe me.... I am trying. I can only guess that I am not achieving enough, nor will I ever achieve enough. The only thing I can do is find other ways to deal with swallowing down the negativity that gets shoveled my way. This is not for the sake of our child.... this is for my own sanity because there is no pill to make me hate someone I love. Sad to say it, but I am becoming the dog that loves the owner that keeps smacking them on the nose unconditionally. Loyal to the end.... that is me.
Just this afternoon, DH comes home for lunch. I called him prior to his intended arrival to bring some cash to pay for his prescriptions that were filled, so I can pick them up. I would normally just pay for it with what I have in my wallet, but I seriously doubt the $3 I have in my wallet will cover the cost of his medications. Not allowed to use my credit card, I knew I did the right thing by calling him to ask for some money, so I thought that today was going to be another remotely calm day. I was right, but wrong at the same time.
DH came home, handed me the $20 to pay for his medications, reheated some leftovers from last night for his lunch and proceeded to eat his lunch. Suddenly, he felt compelled to seek out the appointment cards that he has from his doctors to look at when his next appointment was to be. He has a drawer that he keeps these papers in and opens the drawer to not see his stack of appointment cards. Losing patience, he proceeds to start having a temper tantrum over the missing things and begins screaming at me... accusing me that I moved his things. I calmly tell him that I did not touch his stuff because I know better. Since that is not a good enough answer, DH calls for DD to accuse her of moving his things. DD never saw his papers and never moved them and tells him that so. Obviously, this was the last spark to ignite the rage in DH as he continues to accuse me for his missing things with an even louder and meaner tone.
I take a minute to assess the situation and thought that since he crams his stuff in this drawer, it is quite possible that it fell behind the drawer and into the cabinet below. I walk over, open the lower cabinet and his papers were there. I handed them to him and walked away. I never heard a 'thank you' for finding his stuff, nor an apology for his tone towards me. His temper tantrum is over, he is back to being happy-go-lucky-DH again and announces that he is going back to work. I said nothing and he asked me why I was so quiet. I could not hold back what I was feeling and informed him that his attitude required an apology to me and DD. We never touched his stuff, we were accused and yelled at in a less than reasonable tone, and even after the proof was there that nobody touched his stuff... he apparently thought that his demeaning behavior is acceptable and that I just need to get over it like he did. Sorry DH.... I was not raised to be treated like trash that takes verbal blows when I was in the right. If I was wrong.... then I am at least big enough to acknowledge it and apologize for it.
Needless to say... DH took the $20 and left, telling me that he can pick up his own prescriptions. Of course, for added drama.... he slammed the door upon leaving. No apology for his behavior either.
I am just waiting for DH to let what I said sink in. Then he will apologize, but I think I have hit the point that I can no longer truly accept his apology and forget this event.
I called my brother for some advice. He is really good at getting a point across with very little effort. I see him as a word master of sorts. He knows exactly what to say that will leave no room for future argument. Well, my big brother pointed out something that I have noticed, but never realized that there is no real solution. DH's behavior is learned by what his parents done. I will say, without a doubt that his parents would deny until their dying breath that they behaved the same way. That the man of the house never has to apologize for anything... even if they are blatantly wrong in every sense of the word... and that the woman is required to accept this type of behavior and do everything in their power to avoid it again. Obviously, in my youth, I saw things far different than he did. My parents argued, but there was always a sense of respect for each other. Whomever was wrong and learned that they were, would apologize for it.... even learn from it. Especially from poor behavior.
What my big brother managed to teach me is that I need to have a tough skin when it comes to dealing with DH. My generous nature is something that rubs DH the wrong way, my reasonable attitude to be fair is obviously is another thing that rubs DH the wrong way, and expecting him to learn a new way is placing far too high of expectations on someone that refuses to raise the bar for this marriage. I am just not sure I can be so accommodating to someone that obviously thinks so little of me. Believe me.... I am trying. I can only guess that I am not achieving enough, nor will I ever achieve enough. The only thing I can do is find other ways to deal with swallowing down the negativity that gets shoveled my way. This is not for the sake of our child.... this is for my own sanity because there is no pill to make me hate someone I love. Sad to say it, but I am becoming the dog that loves the owner that keeps smacking them on the nose unconditionally. Loyal to the end.... that is me.
Friday, January 18, 2013
The mental setback....
2013: The year I stick to my resolution to lose weight and succeed! Or, so I hope so.
Ever notice the more involved in the process to do something, the more contradictory information is available? I know that losing weight takes effort and a plan, but trying to figure what is going to meet the criteria to make this plan livable and successful at the same time is harder than ever. Really, nobody gains weight overnight, nor can they lose it just as fast, but really..... what is the magic act to make the loss consistent?
I know that I promised....way back when I started this blog).... that I would not share the frustration that seems standard when it comes to weight issues. Really, who wants to hear me whine and complain that this one goal, as simple as it can be on the surface, being painfully difficult to achieve? I know that people have setbacks, plateaus, and whatnot to deal with. I am no different than the average person. I have watched those infomercials that play in the wee hours of the morning while I was nursing my frequent back spasms, I have felt compelled to call that 1-800 number and order, and I also scratched my head at how these random people that suffered the same ailment as I do get to achieve what I have been feeling is the impossible with that one simple trick, gadget or exercise video while I just can't seem to do it on my own. I have joined groups like Weight Watchers to follow their plan, discuss ideas in meetings, and had the comfort that I was not alone in this quest for the ideal weight to be. I have done prepackaged meals, supplement bars, shakes, and whatnot to not see the results that others claim they work. I have suffered through cleanses, meal planning, measuring and weighing everything that is allowed to reach my lips, as well as its worthiness to be consumed.
There are compelling arguments to the notion about what to consume, when to consume it, and how much to consume. Some people say juicing is the way, others believe that if you can eat the actual fruit or vegetable... it offers more benefits than it being liquefied. Counting calories, fat grams, fiber, carbohydrates, and the number of recognizable ingredients (yep, I said it... recognizable ingredients) is supposed to educate us what we eat needs to be more natural and less processed. The battle between natural sugars, processed sugars (like corn syrup), and artificial sweeteners (like Splenda, Nutrasweet, and Truvia) can make a person's head spin if you read the contradictory information. The arguments between butter and margarine are even a concern. Iodized table salt or Sea salt.... which is more beneficial when it comes to blood pressure is a strong topic these days. Then there is the arguments over fats that can make your head spin.... limit your fats at all times, but it is okay to consume healthy fats found in olives, avocado and nuts, but you cannot count peanut butter as a healthy fat since it is processed. Even eggs are getting a bad rap! Yolks are bad one week and now they are okay to consume. Eat oatmeal, but not the instant stuff. Trust me.... I will take the lesser of two evils and eat the instant stuff (tastes less like paste). Special K cereal can get you to lose a jeans size in 2 weeks!!! Yeah, right. As long as you can survive on processed cereal, chemically-laced diet shakes, and roughly 2 bites of a "granola/cereal" bar as your food choices for those two weeks.
Sure, I can lose weight.... if I had my jaw wired shut and part of my intestines removed or stapled smaller. If I had the money, I could get the fat sucked out, but even that offers no guarantees. Eat less, move more is battling with eat more, move less when you choose the right foods for your body type. Sprinkle some stuff on everything you eat (Sensa) and lose weight, pop a pill to help burn more fat, or pop a pill to suppress your appetite. Trust me, I remember the Dexatrim days and being jittery with no appetite was no walk in the park for me. Alli (or whatever it is called) is made to be an aid in blocking some of the fat we consume, but it is the shock collar of diet pills when you do happen to eat something with even a smidgen of fat in it.... you would be required to eat in the bathroom because that fat shoots out of you faster than you can move. But in all honesty.... we need some fats in our diet. It can come from oils or the holy trinity of food choices (nuts, olives, and avocado). Those fats are to keep us functioning properly and to keep waste removal smooth, but all the rage now is Probiotics found in yogurt or pills. With all this in mind... we still have to count calories even when we are to balance a healthy diet according to the national health guidlines. You know what that is.... that food pyramid that he all learned in health class when we went to school. Even that sets us up for failure since everything we eat has a calorie number attached to it.
When it comes down to the math... we are shy of just taking pills to survive. The necessary levels of nutrients we are to get from food alone is staggering when the calorie counting dieter keeps a keen eye on the number. Speaking of numbers.... the dieter is focused on more numbers than a statistician or an accountant. There is the number on the scale, the number when it comes to measurements, and the number to where your clothing size is.... just add in the calorie intake, calories burned, fat grams, fiber grams, serving size, and carbohydrate count with the time you can consume or do such things and numbers are a huge thing to consider.
Why am I an this rant today, you ask? Simple.... I stepped on my friend/enemy the bathroom scale. I do this 3 times a week so I can map my progress before hitting the gym or going to my martial arts fitness class. I am still a member of weight watchers and track the foods I eat to meet their requirements of servings of specific foods and their accredited points values (yep, a double hit when it comes to numbers), as well as track my weight loss progress. Now, I understand that weight can fluctuate from day to day (and I am well aware of it), but when I work my tail off, pay painful attention to my water consumption, my food choices, the serving size, and my eternal battle with emotional eating tendencies (yep, I am so deep in being a food Nazi, hating dieter with exercise anxiety... deep psychological self-torturing brain-washer is what I have become), and gain a pound???? I am suffering a head scratching mental setback that can turn really ugly if I let it get to me, so I figured I would vent before I even attempt to make my breakfast, pack my gym bag and hit the gym today. Whew! With that rant set free, I can close the door on my pity party, pick myself up and do what needs to be done.
Well, no better time than the present to get my 2 glasses of water down before I eat my breakfast (a suggestion from a friend and fitness nut that is in perfect health and went to school to know all about it), pack that gym bag and haul my +1 pound sorry excuse of an achiever when it comes to losing weight (when I have a lot to lose anyway and regardless if this weight gain is muscle or water... I am a girl that focuses far too much on numbers because society places that notion in high regard and I will not be happy until I lose every stinking pound I need to lose to be at the weight the government ranking BMI number is placed before me, and meet such number). Fingers crossed I remember to eat my protein before going.... I do not want a repeat dizzy spell session like last time. Thanks for letting me vent.
Ever notice the more involved in the process to do something, the more contradictory information is available? I know that losing weight takes effort and a plan, but trying to figure what is going to meet the criteria to make this plan livable and successful at the same time is harder than ever. Really, nobody gains weight overnight, nor can they lose it just as fast, but really..... what is the magic act to make the loss consistent?
I know that I promised....way back when I started this blog).... that I would not share the frustration that seems standard when it comes to weight issues. Really, who wants to hear me whine and complain that this one goal, as simple as it can be on the surface, being painfully difficult to achieve? I know that people have setbacks, plateaus, and whatnot to deal with. I am no different than the average person. I have watched those infomercials that play in the wee hours of the morning while I was nursing my frequent back spasms, I have felt compelled to call that 1-800 number and order, and I also scratched my head at how these random people that suffered the same ailment as I do get to achieve what I have been feeling is the impossible with that one simple trick, gadget or exercise video while I just can't seem to do it on my own. I have joined groups like Weight Watchers to follow their plan, discuss ideas in meetings, and had the comfort that I was not alone in this quest for the ideal weight to be. I have done prepackaged meals, supplement bars, shakes, and whatnot to not see the results that others claim they work. I have suffered through cleanses, meal planning, measuring and weighing everything that is allowed to reach my lips, as well as its worthiness to be consumed.
There are compelling arguments to the notion about what to consume, when to consume it, and how much to consume. Some people say juicing is the way, others believe that if you can eat the actual fruit or vegetable... it offers more benefits than it being liquefied. Counting calories, fat grams, fiber, carbohydrates, and the number of recognizable ingredients (yep, I said it... recognizable ingredients) is supposed to educate us what we eat needs to be more natural and less processed. The battle between natural sugars, processed sugars (like corn syrup), and artificial sweeteners (like Splenda, Nutrasweet, and Truvia) can make a person's head spin if you read the contradictory information. The arguments between butter and margarine are even a concern. Iodized table salt or Sea salt.... which is more beneficial when it comes to blood pressure is a strong topic these days. Then there is the arguments over fats that can make your head spin.... limit your fats at all times, but it is okay to consume healthy fats found in olives, avocado and nuts, but you cannot count peanut butter as a healthy fat since it is processed. Even eggs are getting a bad rap! Yolks are bad one week and now they are okay to consume. Eat oatmeal, but not the instant stuff. Trust me.... I will take the lesser of two evils and eat the instant stuff (tastes less like paste). Special K cereal can get you to lose a jeans size in 2 weeks!!! Yeah, right. As long as you can survive on processed cereal, chemically-laced diet shakes, and roughly 2 bites of a "granola/cereal" bar as your food choices for those two weeks.
Sure, I can lose weight.... if I had my jaw wired shut and part of my intestines removed or stapled smaller. If I had the money, I could get the fat sucked out, but even that offers no guarantees. Eat less, move more is battling with eat more, move less when you choose the right foods for your body type. Sprinkle some stuff on everything you eat (Sensa) and lose weight, pop a pill to help burn more fat, or pop a pill to suppress your appetite. Trust me, I remember the Dexatrim days and being jittery with no appetite was no walk in the park for me. Alli (or whatever it is called) is made to be an aid in blocking some of the fat we consume, but it is the shock collar of diet pills when you do happen to eat something with even a smidgen of fat in it.... you would be required to eat in the bathroom because that fat shoots out of you faster than you can move. But in all honesty.... we need some fats in our diet. It can come from oils or the holy trinity of food choices (nuts, olives, and avocado). Those fats are to keep us functioning properly and to keep waste removal smooth, but all the rage now is Probiotics found in yogurt or pills. With all this in mind... we still have to count calories even when we are to balance a healthy diet according to the national health guidlines. You know what that is.... that food pyramid that he all learned in health class when we went to school. Even that sets us up for failure since everything we eat has a calorie number attached to it.
When it comes down to the math... we are shy of just taking pills to survive. The necessary levels of nutrients we are to get from food alone is staggering when the calorie counting dieter keeps a keen eye on the number. Speaking of numbers.... the dieter is focused on more numbers than a statistician or an accountant. There is the number on the scale, the number when it comes to measurements, and the number to where your clothing size is.... just add in the calorie intake, calories burned, fat grams, fiber grams, serving size, and carbohydrate count with the time you can consume or do such things and numbers are a huge thing to consider.
Why am I an this rant today, you ask? Simple.... I stepped on my friend/enemy the bathroom scale. I do this 3 times a week so I can map my progress before hitting the gym or going to my martial arts fitness class. I am still a member of weight watchers and track the foods I eat to meet their requirements of servings of specific foods and their accredited points values (yep, a double hit when it comes to numbers), as well as track my weight loss progress. Now, I understand that weight can fluctuate from day to day (and I am well aware of it), but when I work my tail off, pay painful attention to my water consumption, my food choices, the serving size, and my eternal battle with emotional eating tendencies (yep, I am so deep in being a food Nazi, hating dieter with exercise anxiety... deep psychological self-torturing brain-washer is what I have become), and gain a pound???? I am suffering a head scratching mental setback that can turn really ugly if I let it get to me, so I figured I would vent before I even attempt to make my breakfast, pack my gym bag and hit the gym today. Whew! With that rant set free, I can close the door on my pity party, pick myself up and do what needs to be done.
Well, no better time than the present to get my 2 glasses of water down before I eat my breakfast (a suggestion from a friend and fitness nut that is in perfect health and went to school to know all about it), pack that gym bag and haul my +1 pound sorry excuse of an achiever when it comes to losing weight (when I have a lot to lose anyway and regardless if this weight gain is muscle or water... I am a girl that focuses far too much on numbers because society places that notion in high regard and I will not be happy until I lose every stinking pound I need to lose to be at the weight the government ranking BMI number is placed before me, and meet such number). Fingers crossed I remember to eat my protein before going.... I do not want a repeat dizzy spell session like last time. Thanks for letting me vent.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
I should be proud of myself, but....
Last night, I limped my sore self to my martial arts fitness class. I explained to the instructor that my determined tendencies to get in shape have brought me there, but with the recent fall in my driveway will limit me in my performance in class as well as some of the exercises will be changed to accommodate because of it. She was happy to hear that I was there and proud of my willingness to go to class when others would have chosen to skip it completely. She even offered me alternatives as well as checked on me to see if I was doing okay. Kind-of surprised me, though, since she is a tough-as-nails 6th degree black belt in both Taekwondo as well as Gumdo (swords), and I never really pegged her for being all that compassionate when it comes to physical fitness. Well, she does happen to be a mother of 3 boys, so she had to have some compassion in her, right? I just figured that since I am terribly out of shape that she would be tougher on me.
I guess the being tough on a person runs in my family more than hers because DD decided to give me grief about my less than stellar endurance when it comes to exercise in last week's class.... especially when it comes to running. I am just not a runner. If someone saw me running down the street... they better check to see who is chasing me. I do not run for pleasure... I run for purpose.... to get away. Since DD and I are taking this class together, she obviously has far more energy than I do and can endure the class. I know she pushes herself in that class and puts in her 110%. Her last words to me before class began is that she has high expectations for me and I need to try even harder. I should be proud that she believes I can do better, but I am not because I am struggling to meet the high expectations placed before me and I am not seeing the finish line anytime soon.
The difference between her and I when it comes to endurance and power is clear. She has bursts of energy that stay true for a period of time and then she crashes into a lump of flesh. I, on the other hand, stay at a level pace and takes far longer to become a lump of flesh. I see this as the story of the turtle and the rabbit. You remember that story, right?
The rabbit, sure and fast, challenges the turtle to a race. As the race begins, the rabbit takes off at a fast clip, leaving the turtle in their dust. With the huge gap between racers, the rabbit takes a break and rests at the base of a tree while the turtle keeps trekking on. When the rabbit wakes from his nap, he ends up losing the race because the slow and steady turtle kept going and never quit, thus crosses the finish line while the rabbit tries to push even harder to pass the turtle again to win for falling so far behind. Motto of the story: slow and steady wins the race.
That is what I am seeing here. With the less intense running to start the class, I was able to endure the whole class. Of course, I walked the first 10 minutes of class with weights in my hands. I focused more on strength in the class and controlled movements. I still was sweating like a whore in church when I was finished. That was my eye opening moment. I had a hard time with kicking, running and leg work with the resistance bands. In fact, I went really easy on myself, but still woke up this morning, sore from head to toe.
I can either attribute this to doing the exercises in a more controlled manner, which benefited me far greater than pushing far too hard and fast.... or I am just in far worse shape than I figured and I have a far longer path to take to get back to being physically strong and in shape (other than round). Sadly, I am leaning towards the latter of the two. With trying to remain positive (which is very hard these days), I can only hope that I can be like the turtle and win the race at my steady, albeit slow, pace. According to some internet research.... the odds are good. Maybe I can make DD proud of me. It will just take far longer than her expected time frame.
Well, time to make some oatmeal for breakfast and chip away some of the housework I need to accomplish. My house does not clean itself. Thanks for reading.
I guess the being tough on a person runs in my family more than hers because DD decided to give me grief about my less than stellar endurance when it comes to exercise in last week's class.... especially when it comes to running. I am just not a runner. If someone saw me running down the street... they better check to see who is chasing me. I do not run for pleasure... I run for purpose.... to get away. Since DD and I are taking this class together, she obviously has far more energy than I do and can endure the class. I know she pushes herself in that class and puts in her 110%. Her last words to me before class began is that she has high expectations for me and I need to try even harder. I should be proud that she believes I can do better, but I am not because I am struggling to meet the high expectations placed before me and I am not seeing the finish line anytime soon.
The difference between her and I when it comes to endurance and power is clear. She has bursts of energy that stay true for a period of time and then she crashes into a lump of flesh. I, on the other hand, stay at a level pace and takes far longer to become a lump of flesh. I see this as the story of the turtle and the rabbit. You remember that story, right?
The rabbit, sure and fast, challenges the turtle to a race. As the race begins, the rabbit takes off at a fast clip, leaving the turtle in their dust. With the huge gap between racers, the rabbit takes a break and rests at the base of a tree while the turtle keeps trekking on. When the rabbit wakes from his nap, he ends up losing the race because the slow and steady turtle kept going and never quit, thus crosses the finish line while the rabbit tries to push even harder to pass the turtle again to win for falling so far behind. Motto of the story: slow and steady wins the race.
That is what I am seeing here. With the less intense running to start the class, I was able to endure the whole class. Of course, I walked the first 10 minutes of class with weights in my hands. I focused more on strength in the class and controlled movements. I still was sweating like a whore in church when I was finished. That was my eye opening moment. I had a hard time with kicking, running and leg work with the resistance bands. In fact, I went really easy on myself, but still woke up this morning, sore from head to toe.
I can either attribute this to doing the exercises in a more controlled manner, which benefited me far greater than pushing far too hard and fast.... or I am just in far worse shape than I figured and I have a far longer path to take to get back to being physically strong and in shape (other than round). Sadly, I am leaning towards the latter of the two. With trying to remain positive (which is very hard these days), I can only hope that I can be like the turtle and win the race at my steady, albeit slow, pace. According to some internet research.... the odds are good. Maybe I can make DD proud of me. It will just take far longer than her expected time frame.
Well, time to make some oatmeal for breakfast and chip away some of the housework I need to accomplish. My house does not clean itself. Thanks for reading.
Monday, January 14, 2013
The domino effect.....
Good morning! Well, as good of a morning that it can be, that is. I am not exactly in a bad mood, just feeling a little defeated. While I can attribute this to my uncanny ability to sabotage myself from my personal goals when it comes to losing some much needed weight from my frame... this really has nothing to do with mental warfare of doing the right thing. All it takes is for one uninvited event to happen and the plans start to topple over like dominoes that you stand on end next to each other. Let me give you my current example....
Yesterday, was like any ordinary day. Well, I had plans of changing up the weekly menu and finding yet another way to control the grocery bill.... making multiple meals from just a mere few ingredients. Here is the plan:
I bought a whole, raw chicken, carrots, celery, onions, green peppers, red peppers, potatoes, beef, mushrooms, canned tomatoes, tomato sauce, beans and.... oh heck, if I list everything, it would take away from the plans I have, so lets just condense it.... The plan was to use the chicken for two different dinners (soup and a pasta dinner), the beef for chili, and the rest for other meals. Buying in a larger quantity of the staples for certain recipes seems to make the meal planning easier. I started making multiple meals yesterday to save time and have less dishes to deal with over the week. Just that little change managed to save on our grocery bill by at least $15 and I felt that was a pretty good accomplishment since there are never coupons for fresh produce. All healthy meals planned and half prepared is a good start, don't ya think? Well, at least that part of my plan was not sabotaged.... and I really need to get to the point here!
Well, needless to say.... with grocery plan in hand, DH and I were getting ready to go to the grocery store. With DD at a sleepover at a friend's house, shopping goes by much faster. The only thing that gets done quickly is the unloading of my truck when we get home. Thinking I am ahead of the game, I wander out to the garage and pull my truck out.... DH still has not made it outside since he feels it is necessary to take a potty break before we leave. While waiting for DH in the ice-covered driveway, I had something on the floor of the passenger's side that needed to be picked up before DH climbed in, but I could not reach it from over the console. As I go to step out of my truck.... my foot landed on the ice and BOOM! I hit the ground HARD. I turned my body so I would not hit my head on the truck door and land solidly on one side of my bottom (my left side). Trust me... that hit to the ground made my teeth rattle in my head and I saw stars from the sheer force that zinged up my spine. I manage to get up, go to the passenger's side, open the door, handle the item that was on the floorboard, left the door open for DH and I worked my way back (in agony) inside my truck. It hurts like the dickens to sit, stand, walk, lay down, and in general.... move. While trying to avoid crying in DH's presence, I took deep breaths and felt the tears stream down my face as I drove the two of us to the grocery store. I was in physical agony and still got the job done. Apparently, DH holds zero compassion since he said nothing and did not even look at me the whole time... Nice, huh? Besides physical pain, I was emotionally hurt. Oh well.... I should never expect kindness at times of pain when I cannot get an act of kindness when I am not. Well, if I look at it in the female tendencies of reading way too much into everything... I guess his decision to take my truck to look at it and get an order in place for the necessary parts yesterday afternoon was his way of saying he cares. It only has taken him roughly a year to get this far. Maybe when he actually does fix my truck, I can stop seeing the check engine light glowing on my dash board and enjoy a remotely smooth ride.
Okay, with the injury firmly in place, I need to point out that this is the first domino to fall in a path of many.... The pain on my backside is intense! I probably cracked my tailbone (near my hip) and it does not bode well for the martial arts fitness class I have to take tonight. I can barely move, let alone run and kick a kicking bag. Kind-of kills the notion of exercising at the gym, too. Just when I am this close (pinching my finger and thumb together), to actually making exercise a habit. Trust me when I say this, but I have a long way to go, if all the effort from last week resulted in a 1.2# loss (I stepped on the scale this morning), and if I miss out on the exercise.... I won't lose another ounce unless I die, get cremated, and have my ashes placed in an urn. I eat like a bird and exercise like a maniac. If I miss out this week because of my fall.... Kiss that effort goodbye. Quite depressing, if you ask me. This is just the beginning of the devastation of my attempts. If I cannot lose more weight, I will stop dieting. Well, not exactly. I have been on a perpetual diet for years, but I will pay less attention to portion control and that is just as bad as eating a jumbo bag of Doritos in one sitting. Thus, another excuse for my attachment to gravity at a far greater rate for someone my height and bone structure. Trust me, emotional eating is the next domino to fall after not being able to burn the calories. Then getting older and facing that fate of gaining weight. Tack on menopause (that is a woman's cross to deal with), and dying is sounding pretty pleasant, if you ask me.
Of course, with this start of the domino effect of failure, I will accept the fate that menopause will just pack on more weight at an even faster rate. I honestly think I am in the beginning throes of that, too. My body is not functioning properly, if you catch my drift. I have been a bit moody lately, late for monthly reason for DH to run for the hills (which makes it more likely that he needs to start running), and I am yet again getting more and more bloated since my last forced cycle had me gain 20# that I was able to lose only.... what? 1.2#? UGH! Pity party of one here!! Self-loathing already began last night when I got a few hours of sleep where I was not in pain. Tylenol consumption will commence shortly again. Makes me wonder why people seem to like me when I hate myself so much.... Yep, depression is starting to settle in. I think it is time to get back in the kitchen and skim off the cooled fat from the soup, shred the chicken for the chicken pasta meal, try to do some cleaning with my limited mobility and hope for the best when I go to my exercise class tonight since I really do not want to hear DH rip me a new one if I skip classes that he allowed me to pay for. After tonight, I still will have 10 more weeks to do this.... sigh. Feeling the double negative of failing at losing weight sure seems to pack on more weight upon my shoulders. Especially when I decided that 2013 was the year to get fully back in shape. Better accept that being round is a shape and move forward. Not the shape I want, but there you have it.... Karma is teaching me a lesson from something I do not recall doing wrong to another. I wish it would stop, but I guess I have to accept fate.... as awful as it is....
I hope you all have a great day since any good fortune that I am trying for has been taken away from me and does not deserve to be floating around in limbo, so I hope you get it since I won't. Thanks for letting me vent. Carry on, people! Nothing worthwhile to see here!
Yesterday, was like any ordinary day. Well, I had plans of changing up the weekly menu and finding yet another way to control the grocery bill.... making multiple meals from just a mere few ingredients. Here is the plan:
I bought a whole, raw chicken, carrots, celery, onions, green peppers, red peppers, potatoes, beef, mushrooms, canned tomatoes, tomato sauce, beans and.... oh heck, if I list everything, it would take away from the plans I have, so lets just condense it.... The plan was to use the chicken for two different dinners (soup and a pasta dinner), the beef for chili, and the rest for other meals. Buying in a larger quantity of the staples for certain recipes seems to make the meal planning easier. I started making multiple meals yesterday to save time and have less dishes to deal with over the week. Just that little change managed to save on our grocery bill by at least $15 and I felt that was a pretty good accomplishment since there are never coupons for fresh produce. All healthy meals planned and half prepared is a good start, don't ya think? Well, at least that part of my plan was not sabotaged.... and I really need to get to the point here!
Well, needless to say.... with grocery plan in hand, DH and I were getting ready to go to the grocery store. With DD at a sleepover at a friend's house, shopping goes by much faster. The only thing that gets done quickly is the unloading of my truck when we get home. Thinking I am ahead of the game, I wander out to the garage and pull my truck out.... DH still has not made it outside since he feels it is necessary to take a potty break before we leave. While waiting for DH in the ice-covered driveway, I had something on the floor of the passenger's side that needed to be picked up before DH climbed in, but I could not reach it from over the console. As I go to step out of my truck.... my foot landed on the ice and BOOM! I hit the ground HARD. I turned my body so I would not hit my head on the truck door and land solidly on one side of my bottom (my left side). Trust me... that hit to the ground made my teeth rattle in my head and I saw stars from the sheer force that zinged up my spine. I manage to get up, go to the passenger's side, open the door, handle the item that was on the floorboard, left the door open for DH and I worked my way back (in agony) inside my truck. It hurts like the dickens to sit, stand, walk, lay down, and in general.... move. While trying to avoid crying in DH's presence, I took deep breaths and felt the tears stream down my face as I drove the two of us to the grocery store. I was in physical agony and still got the job done. Apparently, DH holds zero compassion since he said nothing and did not even look at me the whole time... Nice, huh? Besides physical pain, I was emotionally hurt. Oh well.... I should never expect kindness at times of pain when I cannot get an act of kindness when I am not. Well, if I look at it in the female tendencies of reading way too much into everything... I guess his decision to take my truck to look at it and get an order in place for the necessary parts yesterday afternoon was his way of saying he cares. It only has taken him roughly a year to get this far. Maybe when he actually does fix my truck, I can stop seeing the check engine light glowing on my dash board and enjoy a remotely smooth ride.
Okay, with the injury firmly in place, I need to point out that this is the first domino to fall in a path of many.... The pain on my backside is intense! I probably cracked my tailbone (near my hip) and it does not bode well for the martial arts fitness class I have to take tonight. I can barely move, let alone run and kick a kicking bag. Kind-of kills the notion of exercising at the gym, too. Just when I am this close (pinching my finger and thumb together), to actually making exercise a habit. Trust me when I say this, but I have a long way to go, if all the effort from last week resulted in a 1.2# loss (I stepped on the scale this morning), and if I miss out on the exercise.... I won't lose another ounce unless I die, get cremated, and have my ashes placed in an urn. I eat like a bird and exercise like a maniac. If I miss out this week because of my fall.... Kiss that effort goodbye. Quite depressing, if you ask me. This is just the beginning of the devastation of my attempts. If I cannot lose more weight, I will stop dieting. Well, not exactly. I have been on a perpetual diet for years, but I will pay less attention to portion control and that is just as bad as eating a jumbo bag of Doritos in one sitting. Thus, another excuse for my attachment to gravity at a far greater rate for someone my height and bone structure. Trust me, emotional eating is the next domino to fall after not being able to burn the calories. Then getting older and facing that fate of gaining weight. Tack on menopause (that is a woman's cross to deal with), and dying is sounding pretty pleasant, if you ask me.
Of course, with this start of the domino effect of failure, I will accept the fate that menopause will just pack on more weight at an even faster rate. I honestly think I am in the beginning throes of that, too. My body is not functioning properly, if you catch my drift. I have been a bit moody lately, late for monthly reason for DH to run for the hills (which makes it more likely that he needs to start running), and I am yet again getting more and more bloated since my last forced cycle had me gain 20# that I was able to lose only.... what? 1.2#? UGH! Pity party of one here!! Self-loathing already began last night when I got a few hours of sleep where I was not in pain. Tylenol consumption will commence shortly again. Makes me wonder why people seem to like me when I hate myself so much.... Yep, depression is starting to settle in. I think it is time to get back in the kitchen and skim off the cooled fat from the soup, shred the chicken for the chicken pasta meal, try to do some cleaning with my limited mobility and hope for the best when I go to my exercise class tonight since I really do not want to hear DH rip me a new one if I skip classes that he allowed me to pay for. After tonight, I still will have 10 more weeks to do this.... sigh. Feeling the double negative of failing at losing weight sure seems to pack on more weight upon my shoulders. Especially when I decided that 2013 was the year to get fully back in shape. Better accept that being round is a shape and move forward. Not the shape I want, but there you have it.... Karma is teaching me a lesson from something I do not recall doing wrong to another. I wish it would stop, but I guess I have to accept fate.... as awful as it is....
I hope you all have a great day since any good fortune that I am trying for has been taken away from me and does not deserve to be floating around in limbo, so I hope you get it since I won't. Thanks for letting me vent. Carry on, people! Nothing worthwhile to see here!
Tuesday, January 8, 2013
January 8, 2013 (a "flossing")....
OUCH! Good morning! I have a couple of things to share and then I will be off to face the day with a much slower moving body that will be wincing and making noises that only come from someone far older than my 44 years of age...
Lets start off with the mention of yet another milestone in my life.... well, not only in my life, but in the life of DD. Today is her birthday and she is now officially a teenager! YIKES! Seems like only yesterday, I was suffering through 13 grueling hours of induced labor because my child kicked through the protective sac that held her suspended safely inside my taxed body. I say it was taxed because gaining 35 pounds in roughly 9 months (all in one area) caused stretch marks that bordered upon appearing like I was literally tearing my skin (not pretty and the reason I will never... ever be seen in a bikini). Heck, I was starting to think that giving birth was going to be something similar to the birth scene in the movie Alien, when the "baby" pops out through the topside of my stomach like those football players crashing through the paper circle at the beginning of the homecoming game. FYI... it is not like that. Let me give you the short version of what happened just 13 years ago...
It was bowling night for DH the night before. Obviously a reason to get plastered with multiple beers while tossing a 16 pound bowling ball down a waxed lane to knock down 10 pins. His league was meeting for this ritual for only God knows how long, but DH was nearing his limit of doing this when I informed him of his pending fatherhood.... just not yet. It was 1:00 in the morning and I woke with a wet feeling and my stomach was bouncing. Wondering what in all of God's creation was going on... I looked in my What to expect when you are expecting book and came to the conclusion that my water broke. Being a first time mom with no prior experience, I called the doctor's emergency service and was informed that I had to get to the hospital pronto. (Oh, great! I have to wake sleeping beauty to let him know). In true form, DH opens one eye and grunts something that sounded like "what". I tell him that my water broke and we need to get to the hospital. He rolls over and closes his eyes. I jab him again, he opens one eye and I tell him again. His reply was clearly, "Are you kidding me?" I tell him no as calmly as I can, calling him a putz, jab him once more and proceed to grab my already packed bag for the hospital. Both his eyes flew open and he started racing around like a lunatic with a thorn in his foot, going over his list of what he needs to do before we leave (take the dog out, go to the bathroom, and whatever else in a slightly drunken, but obviously sleepy movements in hyper-speed). I grab my coat and the car keys and work my way to the car. He comes running out, looks at me, and I tell him that I feel he is unfit to drive me anywhere because he is obviously freaking out for both of us and I wanted to get there in one piece. He agrees with my request and I got in the drivers seat, he in the passengers seat and off we went. While I was driving, I wondered why I was so calm. I should be the one freaking out, right? I never gave birth before and I really had no clue what was going to happen, but there I was.... calm, cool, and collected. We got to the hospital's ER and stopped in front of the door. I asked him kindly to at least park the car and asked him if he was able to do that simple task. He nodded his head like a bobble-head doll and went to park the car. Once inside the hospital, I was wheeled into the labor and delivery department and was placed on a nice I.V. of fluids and some labor-inducing medicines since I was not dilated to actually deliver yet. DH joins me and promptly passes out in the recliner next to my bed while that medicine started wreaking havoc on my body. With each medicine-induced contraction, I cursed like a trucker with a free pass to scream every foul-worded thought, directed at a yet again sleeping beauty that this was all his fault. While I was in agony, there were multiple doctors and nurses checking on me. Most were laughing because I was apparently hilarious with my colorful comments. I guess I was quite hilarious while in physical agony. Glad to know that everyone had fun on my account. When the paramedic-in-training walked in and asked if he could witness a live birth as part of his training, I said sure... Everyone seems to want to take a look at something I cannot see without the aid of a well-angled mirror, nor would ever want to see it. What is yet one more stranger looking where the sun should never shine and is to be held sacred, right? Go right ahead, buddy! My working parts are no longer a secret!
Long story, short... after many hours of agony, I got to hear the first sound of my daughter I named Genevieve May (Genevieve was DH's grandmother's name and May is my mother's middle name - the reason I named her after DH's grandmother is because she was the first and only person in DH's family that accepted me fully and insisted I call her Grandma when I was dating DH. We were best of friends.), called my mom (DH called his parents), and my life changed completely from that moment. I was no longer Nancy, I earned a new name.... Mom.
It is a tough job... being a mom, that is. Besides raising a pretty good kid, I also have had to raise DH (which is far harder... can't teach an old dog new tricks). No complaints, just in awe of it all. She is tall, beautiful and smart... stubborn to the core, moody and growing up far too fast. She was reminded this morning that no matter how old she gets.... she will always be my baby girl. I will be stern, but loving... silly at times and will embarrass her often (it is my job, right?). I am her mother first and will protect her with my life... then I will also be her friend that she can turn to.
Well, after sharing that... I will make this last thing short, since I have plenty of things to do today....
I got schooled last night! I decided that some exercise variation is necessary in my new years resolution of getting back to my fighting weight and took a martial arts fitness class at my daughter's martial arts school. Now, I am strong, but lack endurance. That was prevalent in last night's class. Round my be a shape, but obviously not an actively in-shape shape. After the one hour class, I was sweating like a whore in church and quite beat, but I still managed to take out the garbage before melting into the couch. That even included hauling out DD's old headboard from her room to take it to the curb. I woke up this morning to DH's mention that he was leaving for work and asked me to go to the store to get DD a card and put the $20 he handed to me in it for her since he had no clue what to get her for her birthday. Nice to see that he tries to do more for his daughter than he does for me. He did get a laugh when my first words were.... "Did you get the license plate of the truck that ran me over? That class kicked my butt." At least the rest of the week's exercising is far less intense since it consists of a treadmill, some weights, and sit-ups at a far less intense rate. I am in no means a runner in any sense of the word... yep, the turtle is me.... slow and steady with strength to carry the shell for great lengths. Well, time to mosey (with sound effects) to get this day going.... housework is on the menu for today, then back to the gym tomorrow.
Have a great day everyone!!
Lets start off with the mention of yet another milestone in my life.... well, not only in my life, but in the life of DD. Today is her birthday and she is now officially a teenager! YIKES! Seems like only yesterday, I was suffering through 13 grueling hours of induced labor because my child kicked through the protective sac that held her suspended safely inside my taxed body. I say it was taxed because gaining 35 pounds in roughly 9 months (all in one area) caused stretch marks that bordered upon appearing like I was literally tearing my skin (not pretty and the reason I will never... ever be seen in a bikini). Heck, I was starting to think that giving birth was going to be something similar to the birth scene in the movie Alien, when the "baby" pops out through the topside of my stomach like those football players crashing through the paper circle at the beginning of the homecoming game. FYI... it is not like that. Let me give you the short version of what happened just 13 years ago...
It was bowling night for DH the night before. Obviously a reason to get plastered with multiple beers while tossing a 16 pound bowling ball down a waxed lane to knock down 10 pins. His league was meeting for this ritual for only God knows how long, but DH was nearing his limit of doing this when I informed him of his pending fatherhood.... just not yet. It was 1:00 in the morning and I woke with a wet feeling and my stomach was bouncing. Wondering what in all of God's creation was going on... I looked in my What to expect when you are expecting book and came to the conclusion that my water broke. Being a first time mom with no prior experience, I called the doctor's emergency service and was informed that I had to get to the hospital pronto. (Oh, great! I have to wake sleeping beauty to let him know). In true form, DH opens one eye and grunts something that sounded like "what". I tell him that my water broke and we need to get to the hospital. He rolls over and closes his eyes. I jab him again, he opens one eye and I tell him again. His reply was clearly, "Are you kidding me?" I tell him no as calmly as I can, calling him a putz, jab him once more and proceed to grab my already packed bag for the hospital. Both his eyes flew open and he started racing around like a lunatic with a thorn in his foot, going over his list of what he needs to do before we leave (take the dog out, go to the bathroom, and whatever else in a slightly drunken, but obviously sleepy movements in hyper-speed). I grab my coat and the car keys and work my way to the car. He comes running out, looks at me, and I tell him that I feel he is unfit to drive me anywhere because he is obviously freaking out for both of us and I wanted to get there in one piece. He agrees with my request and I got in the drivers seat, he in the passengers seat and off we went. While I was driving, I wondered why I was so calm. I should be the one freaking out, right? I never gave birth before and I really had no clue what was going to happen, but there I was.... calm, cool, and collected. We got to the hospital's ER and stopped in front of the door. I asked him kindly to at least park the car and asked him if he was able to do that simple task. He nodded his head like a bobble-head doll and went to park the car. Once inside the hospital, I was wheeled into the labor and delivery department and was placed on a nice I.V. of fluids and some labor-inducing medicines since I was not dilated to actually deliver yet. DH joins me and promptly passes out in the recliner next to my bed while that medicine started wreaking havoc on my body. With each medicine-induced contraction, I cursed like a trucker with a free pass to scream every foul-worded thought, directed at a yet again sleeping beauty that this was all his fault. While I was in agony, there were multiple doctors and nurses checking on me. Most were laughing because I was apparently hilarious with my colorful comments. I guess I was quite hilarious while in physical agony. Glad to know that everyone had fun on my account. When the paramedic-in-training walked in and asked if he could witness a live birth as part of his training, I said sure... Everyone seems to want to take a look at something I cannot see without the aid of a well-angled mirror, nor would ever want to see it. What is yet one more stranger looking where the sun should never shine and is to be held sacred, right? Go right ahead, buddy! My working parts are no longer a secret!
Long story, short... after many hours of agony, I got to hear the first sound of my daughter I named Genevieve May (Genevieve was DH's grandmother's name and May is my mother's middle name - the reason I named her after DH's grandmother is because she was the first and only person in DH's family that accepted me fully and insisted I call her Grandma when I was dating DH. We were best of friends.), called my mom (DH called his parents), and my life changed completely from that moment. I was no longer Nancy, I earned a new name.... Mom.
It is a tough job... being a mom, that is. Besides raising a pretty good kid, I also have had to raise DH (which is far harder... can't teach an old dog new tricks). No complaints, just in awe of it all. She is tall, beautiful and smart... stubborn to the core, moody and growing up far too fast. She was reminded this morning that no matter how old she gets.... she will always be my baby girl. I will be stern, but loving... silly at times and will embarrass her often (it is my job, right?). I am her mother first and will protect her with my life... then I will also be her friend that she can turn to.
Well, after sharing that... I will make this last thing short, since I have plenty of things to do today....
I got schooled last night! I decided that some exercise variation is necessary in my new years resolution of getting back to my fighting weight and took a martial arts fitness class at my daughter's martial arts school. Now, I am strong, but lack endurance. That was prevalent in last night's class. Round my be a shape, but obviously not an actively in-shape shape. After the one hour class, I was sweating like a whore in church and quite beat, but I still managed to take out the garbage before melting into the couch. That even included hauling out DD's old headboard from her room to take it to the curb. I woke up this morning to DH's mention that he was leaving for work and asked me to go to the store to get DD a card and put the $20 he handed to me in it for her since he had no clue what to get her for her birthday. Nice to see that he tries to do more for his daughter than he does for me. He did get a laugh when my first words were.... "Did you get the license plate of the truck that ran me over? That class kicked my butt." At least the rest of the week's exercising is far less intense since it consists of a treadmill, some weights, and sit-ups at a far less intense rate. I am in no means a runner in any sense of the word... yep, the turtle is me.... slow and steady with strength to carry the shell for great lengths. Well, time to mosey (with sound effects) to get this day going.... housework is on the menu for today, then back to the gym tomorrow.
Have a great day everyone!!
Thursday, January 3, 2013
When will I ever learn my lesson?
I have been told that I can be opinionated. I am not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but apparently opinionated people need to learn to just keep their mouth shut in order to avoid confrontation. I seem to be very familiar with the notion to just bite my lip and say nothing... I just happen to have weak moments and forget to remind myself that. Especially when it comes to having a conversation with DH.
Just last night, DH comes home from his first day back to work after the New Year holiday and shares with me his feelings of the day. I really do not know why he feels compelled to tell me if my track record results in offering my opinion. I mean, I know that if I did not ask how his day went, I would get blamed for having no interest in him... I have been yelled at for the couple of times I did not bother to ask about his day. I swear, I get the feeling he just wants to set me up for hurt feelings with his attitude. Regardless of what I happen to do.... I am wrong anyway and I still have not figured out how to avoid getting the sharp-tongued comments. Sigh, I need to tap into my ability to be understanding... I probably would get upset if he did not ask about my day, right? Oh, that's right.... HE NEVER ASKS ME! I apparently have a completely useless existence at my job or even in my day-to-day responsibilities tending to the house and our child. I guess I just never happened to learn that the wife's existence is nothing more than just another body that takes up space and shares a last name.... we are not allowed to have opinions or even thoughts to being remotely helpful beyond what has been seen as "woman's work".
Well, to get back on topic.... DH makes a comment about a fellow employee taking an additional day off from work after having an extended holiday weekend off. Apparently, this employee believes that he is the "make or break" of the business, even though when he is there.... everything is backlogged and moving at a snails pace. When this person is not there... DH steps up and gets things running at a far greater clip and manages to get everything done (and then some). With his less than enthusiastic opinion of that employee, I made the mistake of asking how this guy thinks the garage would collapse upon itself if he took a day off since I seem to hear about all the vacation time this person takes. Well, that little slip in keeping my opinionated mouth shut resulted in a tongue lashing that was quick and fierce with a generous slap to my intelligence because I do not own a business like he does. All I did was point out that this person seems to take a fair amount of time off from work while DH has taken none. Is it wrong to point out something obvious? I thought my gesture of stating that DH needs to utilize some of his vacation time, too, because he earned it after putting in roughly 20 years of himself in that business was showing that I actually care about his well-being, and since he is a business owner... he is entitled to it, too. I can only assume that the opinion stated of feeling that if he took some time off from work would make-or-break the business was about him and not his employee. How stupid of me to assume there is no hidden meaning in what comes out of his mouth!! I guess that saying when a person happens to assume, it makes an ass out of u & me is true, except in this case.... it made an ass out of just me. Time to scratch that up to another lesson in life...
While it is true that I never ventured into owning a business, I do happen to have a fair grasp of what it entails. I have managed a fair amount in my past and even was called upon to troubleshoot in some of those businesses. I am quick to learn and capable of making some serious decisions in my day. I have never been afraid of a challenge placed before me when it comes to hard work. Heck, my last office job that I was hired for ended with me not just handling vendor relations as a purchasing agent... I also became production assistant manager, liaison to accounting, and inventory control specialist. Did I ask for the extra jobs to the one I was hired for? No. I got those additional jobs (sans the title) because I am not a moron, just a hard worker that takes pride in what I do, learned on my own how to do the job and met or exceeded their expectations. Did I have a college degree to do that? No. Just the willingness to put in the effort. Could I get back into that line of work nowadays? Nope, because I do not have the degree to back it up. If I was offered the opportunity, would I take it? You betcha!
With all this knowledge, you think I would have learned my lesson to just act like a "yes-man/woman" and let him vent, nod my head in understanding and offer no suggestions or opinions... no matter if he actually asks for it. I still feel the sting of being asked for an idea to track individual employee output once and had my idea shot down, told I have no business sense to suggest such a thing, and later find out that my idea was presented by another person and was seen as the greatest idea since sliced bread (and implemented, nonetheless). Did I get credit for suggesting it? No. Was I even acknowledged for mentioning it first? Nope. While I did not appreciate being talked to like a moron, I learned my lesson that day, but cannot seem to follow through with remembering to just say nothing and remain the stupid person that obtained the title of "Mrs. DH".... Heck, I would have been better off just never finishing getting a high school education in his eyes. Trade school to become a Cosmetologist was an apparent waste also. Yep, just be brain-dead, maybe pretty, but definitely be the "hired help" that does not get paid. Grrr! I would love to give a piece of my mind to him, but I really am not in the mood to being verbally smacked-down again, so I shut my mouth, left the room, and did not let it continue from there . I just do not have it in me to prove my worth anymore and that is the saddest thing..... I think he finally broke my spirit. The only upside to this recent experience is that he cooled off after lashing out the hurtful tone quickly afterwards and was appearing to be nice the rest of the evening and when he woke me up to tell me he was leaving for work. Crisis averted!
Well, off to the gym I go... I guess I can embrace being the moron in my marriage better if I was thinner. Fat and labeled stupid is just too much for me to plaster a fake smile on my face when I am around people... especially DH. Thanks for letting me vent, so carry on with your day. I hope you have a better one than what I am having.....
Just last night, DH comes home from his first day back to work after the New Year holiday and shares with me his feelings of the day. I really do not know why he feels compelled to tell me if my track record results in offering my opinion. I mean, I know that if I did not ask how his day went, I would get blamed for having no interest in him... I have been yelled at for the couple of times I did not bother to ask about his day. I swear, I get the feeling he just wants to set me up for hurt feelings with his attitude. Regardless of what I happen to do.... I am wrong anyway and I still have not figured out how to avoid getting the sharp-tongued comments. Sigh, I need to tap into my ability to be understanding... I probably would get upset if he did not ask about my day, right? Oh, that's right.... HE NEVER ASKS ME! I apparently have a completely useless existence at my job or even in my day-to-day responsibilities tending to the house and our child. I guess I just never happened to learn that the wife's existence is nothing more than just another body that takes up space and shares a last name.... we are not allowed to have opinions or even thoughts to being remotely helpful beyond what has been seen as "woman's work".
Well, to get back on topic.... DH makes a comment about a fellow employee taking an additional day off from work after having an extended holiday weekend off. Apparently, this employee believes that he is the "make or break" of the business, even though when he is there.... everything is backlogged and moving at a snails pace. When this person is not there... DH steps up and gets things running at a far greater clip and manages to get everything done (and then some). With his less than enthusiastic opinion of that employee, I made the mistake of asking how this guy thinks the garage would collapse upon itself if he took a day off since I seem to hear about all the vacation time this person takes. Well, that little slip in keeping my opinionated mouth shut resulted in a tongue lashing that was quick and fierce with a generous slap to my intelligence because I do not own a business like he does. All I did was point out that this person seems to take a fair amount of time off from work while DH has taken none. Is it wrong to point out something obvious? I thought my gesture of stating that DH needs to utilize some of his vacation time, too, because he earned it after putting in roughly 20 years of himself in that business was showing that I actually care about his well-being, and since he is a business owner... he is entitled to it, too. I can only assume that the opinion stated of feeling that if he took some time off from work would make-or-break the business was about him and not his employee. How stupid of me to assume there is no hidden meaning in what comes out of his mouth!! I guess that saying when a person happens to assume, it makes an ass out of u & me is true, except in this case.... it made an ass out of just me. Time to scratch that up to another lesson in life...
While it is true that I never ventured into owning a business, I do happen to have a fair grasp of what it entails. I have managed a fair amount in my past and even was called upon to troubleshoot in some of those businesses. I am quick to learn and capable of making some serious decisions in my day. I have never been afraid of a challenge placed before me when it comes to hard work. Heck, my last office job that I was hired for ended with me not just handling vendor relations as a purchasing agent... I also became production assistant manager, liaison to accounting, and inventory control specialist. Did I ask for the extra jobs to the one I was hired for? No. I got those additional jobs (sans the title) because I am not a moron, just a hard worker that takes pride in what I do, learned on my own how to do the job and met or exceeded their expectations. Did I have a college degree to do that? No. Just the willingness to put in the effort. Could I get back into that line of work nowadays? Nope, because I do not have the degree to back it up. If I was offered the opportunity, would I take it? You betcha!
With all this knowledge, you think I would have learned my lesson to just act like a "yes-man/woman" and let him vent, nod my head in understanding and offer no suggestions or opinions... no matter if he actually asks for it. I still feel the sting of being asked for an idea to track individual employee output once and had my idea shot down, told I have no business sense to suggest such a thing, and later find out that my idea was presented by another person and was seen as the greatest idea since sliced bread (and implemented, nonetheless). Did I get credit for suggesting it? No. Was I even acknowledged for mentioning it first? Nope. While I did not appreciate being talked to like a moron, I learned my lesson that day, but cannot seem to follow through with remembering to just say nothing and remain the stupid person that obtained the title of "Mrs. DH".... Heck, I would have been better off just never finishing getting a high school education in his eyes. Trade school to become a Cosmetologist was an apparent waste also. Yep, just be brain-dead, maybe pretty, but definitely be the "hired help" that does not get paid. Grrr! I would love to give a piece of my mind to him, but I really am not in the mood to being verbally smacked-down again, so I shut my mouth, left the room, and did not let it continue from there . I just do not have it in me to prove my worth anymore and that is the saddest thing..... I think he finally broke my spirit. The only upside to this recent experience is that he cooled off after lashing out the hurtful tone quickly afterwards and was appearing to be nice the rest of the evening and when he woke me up to tell me he was leaving for work. Crisis averted!
Well, off to the gym I go... I guess I can embrace being the moron in my marriage better if I was thinner. Fat and labeled stupid is just too much for me to plaster a fake smile on my face when I am around people... especially DH. Thanks for letting me vent, so carry on with your day. I hope you have a better one than what I am having.....
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Nailing jello to a tree???
In just a week, DD becomes an official teenager... YIKES! I remember, like it was yesterday, holding that little bundle in my arms after 13 grueling hours of labor. Looking into that innocent face that swelled my heart with unconditional love, also brought on some serious anxiety. I wondered if I was truly ready to handle countless diaper changes, late night feedings, and the ever changing personality complex that having a baby consisted of. I realized that I did not have one child to care for, but two since DH refused to grow up. Part of the reason I married DH was his youthful outlook and laid-back attitude. He made me laugh, he was my best friend, and we got along quite well. I loved him dearly, and I still do regardless of what he does, or better yet, does not do. He is not high maintenance, but he happens to lack the romance gene and I figured that I could live with that. I just figured that time changes a person, usually for the better, and that since we were so alike.... we would always remain on that same page. Apparently not. I took on the parenting role and.... he did not change all that much. Don't get me wrong... he did grow up a little. Just not where I needed growth. With that being known... I learned to adapt and have managed to raise a pretty good kid in the process.
Going back to when DD was a baby... Wow, she sure is no longer that little bundle that I dressed, fed, and had attached to my hip at all times. Well, that beginning of getting my "parental" footing, I faced some challenges that I never thought I would experience. DD had, and still has, Reactive Airway Disease (RAD); a similar condition to Asthma. With allergies at a painfully young age; by 6 weeks of age she was intolerant of certain baby formulas, and by the age of 2 she was allergic to far more things (dogs, horses, trees, mold, weeds)... we spent a fair number of overnight stays in the hospital to get breathing treatments. After countless visits to the doctor, an allergist, and to other various specialists... we finally got everything under control by the time she was 7 years old. We had a German Shepherd at the time and we managed to keep the allergens down with frequent trips to the groomer and low dose allergy medications with inhalers. Once our dog passed... things got far easier and the stays in the hospital were far less. We attributed the most change after she had her tonsils removed. All the while, I would ask random other parents if babies get easier (since they had far older children in tow at the store), and was told that it would get far easier. I did not pay attention to the giggle and smile when they told me this as a deterrent to the real truth.... it gets easier in some aspects because children get a vocabulary to utilize and they start to gain a little independence... they did not mention that when a child gets older, the challenges get bigger and far more frustrating to the point that you will miss the easy life you had with the baby experience of feeding, burping and changing diapers because really... babies basically ate and slept. The worst challenges hit when a child becomes a teenager and hormones get out of whack.
When it comes down to handling a teenager.... I think I have better odds at nailing jello to a tree.
DD's mood swings from PMS is brutal! She refuses to spend time with her aging parents. When we try.... she turns into a loner and shuts us out. The complaints that her parents are weird and uncool are coming at a feverish pace. Her tone is quick and tense, the rolling of the eyes are in full swing, and the excuses are piling up to mountainous proportions to why she acts like she wants us to just disappear. Our weekly quality family time of going to church, the grocery store or anywhere that consists of us, as a family unit, to go to becomes a torture to her. She would rather lock herself in her room to keep us out of her line of vision, and to avoid actually talking to us in a civil tone. Nowadays, we are required to go into her room to get her full attention when meals are prepared, if there is a phone call for her, or to remind her to get ready to head out with us to go to the store, to church, or to the in-laws for a family gathering.
In all honesty, I would rather get my teeth pulled without Novocaine or Laser Eye surgery without anesthesia than deal with the 'tude from this 'lil dude. She is almost as tall as me, she borrows my shoes without asking and my jewelry is no longer safe in the jewelry box. Asking her to clean her room is like asking for a game of Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun. DH is on his last nerve with her and I am trying to understand why things are this way. Trust me.... I have been trying and every attempt to keep the mother/daughter relationship strong has become weaker as each year has passed. Yep, I have entered that stage in life when your child hates you all the time, well except when they need something from you. Now I get to wait this out until she hits somewhere near 30 to finally realize that I am not as bad as she thinks. So, that gives me roughly 17 more years of this.... sigh. At least I have roughly 5 more years before she is off to college so she can hate me from a dorm room at the college of her choice.
It just makes me wonder.... how should I handle this phase? I have options, you know. I can keep pushing a bond that is obviously strained, I can confront the issue and demand better communication which will consist of excuses and sentence fragments that hold no valid reasoning, or I can be the duck and let everything roll off my back and let her come to me when she is really in a bind. Either way I look at this.... there is going to be some serious arguing that will happen. I just hope I can keep DH calm since he would be the first one to tell her to move out when she turns 18 if she does not like it at home and make it on her own. All he would ask for is a postcard when she gets to wherever she ends up. Other than that.... he would let her sink or swim on her own. I think that is because his father was the same way to him.
The way I see it... I think I need to change the recipe for the jello so I can actually nail it to a tree. I just wonder what is going to be the best recipe before all is lost. Sheesh! What I would give to really turn the clock back and just have a baby to contend with. I think sleepless nights to attend to feedings are quite easier than the upcoming sleepless nights when DD gets her drivers license and goes on actual dates. To those people that told me that raising a child gets easier when they get older... you liars... shame on you!!
Going back to when DD was a baby... Wow, she sure is no longer that little bundle that I dressed, fed, and had attached to my hip at all times. Well, that beginning of getting my "parental" footing, I faced some challenges that I never thought I would experience. DD had, and still has, Reactive Airway Disease (RAD); a similar condition to Asthma. With allergies at a painfully young age; by 6 weeks of age she was intolerant of certain baby formulas, and by the age of 2 she was allergic to far more things (dogs, horses, trees, mold, weeds)... we spent a fair number of overnight stays in the hospital to get breathing treatments. After countless visits to the doctor, an allergist, and to other various specialists... we finally got everything under control by the time she was 7 years old. We had a German Shepherd at the time and we managed to keep the allergens down with frequent trips to the groomer and low dose allergy medications with inhalers. Once our dog passed... things got far easier and the stays in the hospital were far less. We attributed the most change after she had her tonsils removed. All the while, I would ask random other parents if babies get easier (since they had far older children in tow at the store), and was told that it would get far easier. I did not pay attention to the giggle and smile when they told me this as a deterrent to the real truth.... it gets easier in some aspects because children get a vocabulary to utilize and they start to gain a little independence... they did not mention that when a child gets older, the challenges get bigger and far more frustrating to the point that you will miss the easy life you had with the baby experience of feeding, burping and changing diapers because really... babies basically ate and slept. The worst challenges hit when a child becomes a teenager and hormones get out of whack.
When it comes down to handling a teenager.... I think I have better odds at nailing jello to a tree.
DD's mood swings from PMS is brutal! She refuses to spend time with her aging parents. When we try.... she turns into a loner and shuts us out. The complaints that her parents are weird and uncool are coming at a feverish pace. Her tone is quick and tense, the rolling of the eyes are in full swing, and the excuses are piling up to mountainous proportions to why she acts like she wants us to just disappear. Our weekly quality family time of going to church, the grocery store or anywhere that consists of us, as a family unit, to go to becomes a torture to her. She would rather lock herself in her room to keep us out of her line of vision, and to avoid actually talking to us in a civil tone. Nowadays, we are required to go into her room to get her full attention when meals are prepared, if there is a phone call for her, or to remind her to get ready to head out with us to go to the store, to church, or to the in-laws for a family gathering.
In all honesty, I would rather get my teeth pulled without Novocaine or Laser Eye surgery without anesthesia than deal with the 'tude from this 'lil dude. She is almost as tall as me, she borrows my shoes without asking and my jewelry is no longer safe in the jewelry box. Asking her to clean her room is like asking for a game of Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun. DH is on his last nerve with her and I am trying to understand why things are this way. Trust me.... I have been trying and every attempt to keep the mother/daughter relationship strong has become weaker as each year has passed. Yep, I have entered that stage in life when your child hates you all the time, well except when they need something from you. Now I get to wait this out until she hits somewhere near 30 to finally realize that I am not as bad as she thinks. So, that gives me roughly 17 more years of this.... sigh. At least I have roughly 5 more years before she is off to college so she can hate me from a dorm room at the college of her choice.
It just makes me wonder.... how should I handle this phase? I have options, you know. I can keep pushing a bond that is obviously strained, I can confront the issue and demand better communication which will consist of excuses and sentence fragments that hold no valid reasoning, or I can be the duck and let everything roll off my back and let her come to me when she is really in a bind. Either way I look at this.... there is going to be some serious arguing that will happen. I just hope I can keep DH calm since he would be the first one to tell her to move out when she turns 18 if she does not like it at home and make it on her own. All he would ask for is a postcard when she gets to wherever she ends up. Other than that.... he would let her sink or swim on her own. I think that is because his father was the same way to him.
The way I see it... I think I need to change the recipe for the jello so I can actually nail it to a tree. I just wonder what is going to be the best recipe before all is lost. Sheesh! What I would give to really turn the clock back and just have a baby to contend with. I think sleepless nights to attend to feedings are quite easier than the upcoming sleepless nights when DD gets her drivers license and goes on actual dates. To those people that told me that raising a child gets easier when they get older... you liars... shame on you!!
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