That sounds like an exciting sequel, but it's not. It's annoying and exhausting and I often feel like I'm over it, but then it sucks me back in, and this both disappoints me and pisses me off.
Mostly, I don't think critically much about how I look. I try to keep my hair brushed, my hands and face clean, and my clothes comfortable. Then I go about my day and it's fine.
But sometimes, especially at certain times of the month, and maybe especially especially because my body is making some midlife changes that I KNOW TO EXPECT... Sometimes, I just feel like I don't know the body I see in the mirror when I'm not expecting to see it.
The part about this that bothers me the most is that I am anti-feeling-like-crap about the way you look. I outgrew self-hate-speak years ago. I see pictures of myself from 15 years ago and think I look... insubstantial. I don't want to go back to that. Maintaining an artificially low (for me) body weight took up so much of my energy and attention that I have zero desire to go back to those days.
And yet...
My body is changing quickly and seems partially alien to me. I'm still flexible. I do the splits, I stretch, I squat, I bend. But now, when I try to touch my nose to the knees of my outstretched legs, I can't... because my belly is in the way.
I feel spry (mostly; I did a killer workout Friday and am just now getting over being sore about that on Sunday evening), and my body does what I want it to. I don't struggle with movement, and I'm strong enough to handle most tasks I set out to do on my own. In other words, I'm extremely functional, and probably more so now than I have been in years.
I'm proud of who I am, what I've learned, how I'm trying to improve, and of the life I and my people have built. It is absolutely profane that a chance encounter with my own reflection at an angle I wasn't prepared for threatens to send me spiraling.
Here's what I know: I'm not going to do anything about it. It's dangerous, mentally and physically. Usually, I just wait it out until the feeling passes. Fortunately, I guess, my life is generally too busy to get mired down in this sort of thing for very long.
Update: I'm past it now but wanted to go ahead and post this because... most of us end up in that space sometimes.
Here's a picture of me walking last week. I have to go VERY late not to walk in complete darkness since Daylight Saving Time started again. I hate having no time to myself when I get home, but seeing sunrises like this *almost* make it worth it.
In case you weren't deep in evangelical christianity in the early 2000s, the title is a reference to this. (I can't listen to much from these days without cringing, but this one aged okay.)
Now back to our regular programming.
We've established that I'm old. Like half a century old.
I have this very vivid memory from when I was a quarter century old:
I was dating a guy who was two decades my senior. He had this very intensive facial regimen he'd do every morning and night, and it had never occurred to me to do anything like that. Like, I washed my face, but when he cleansed, he left the wash on for a long time so it could "work." Then he'd moisturize. And do stuff for his crow's feet. It was the first and basically only time in my life that I started wondering, "Should I be doing something to keep from looking old?"
The answer I gave myself was "no," and I never looked back.
However, the pandemic did all of us who mostly wore make-up passively a big favor in that it normalized more fresh faces with minimal makeup. I've basically decided to buy into the conventional "pack light" wisdom that all I need is some eyeliner (I know, they say mascara but I can't wear that because it irritates my eyes... yes, even the hypo-allergenic stuff) and tinted lip balm.
My neighbor tells me that I'm lucky because I have "some natural color," whereas she's so pallid that when she was a small child, her mother wouldn't let her wear certain colors because she looked dead (also, she's in her mid-70s, so it was a different time).
I found a couple of similar pictures of myself. One is from today and one is from 12 years ago. I was mostly comparing a full face of makeup (the older picture) to me today. I have never worn heavy make-up, but in the picture from my 30s, I'm wearing powder, lipstick, eyeliner, eye shadow, and blush. Today, I'm only wearing eyeliner and lip balm. Oh, also, I don't color my hair anymore.
And, yes, I can see that I have some wrinkles around my eyes now that I didn't used to have. Also, my neck is probably wrinklier. However, I don't think the "even less make-up" takes much away.
The one concern I had is that I have a pretty high forehead (or what the kids called "five-head" a few years ago) that tends toward shininess. I'm using CeraVe Foaming Cleanser Bar in the morning and evening, and then moisturizing with an alleged "mattifying" lotion at night. I haven't noticed any matte effect, and my forehead is still glistens. I did get some oil-absorbing sheets... and I don't think it's oily. I don't know. I just glow, I suppose.
Anyway, something interesting has happened since I started washing my face twice a day instead of once and also moisturizing: My skin has cleared up. I mean, I've been fortunate to have pretty good skin, anyway, but had some bumps and just assumed that was what my skin was doing as I head into menopause. Turns out, maybe my face is tired after 35 years of having power all over almost every single day.
Since I started drinking more water about a year ago (after GERD was massively negatively impacting my life so I gave up carbonated drinks for the most part), and have now started trying to "pack light" in my make-up life, I thought a couple of other things might be fun.
My feet have always been cracked and dry, and my mom has been on me most of my life to use lotion. It's always felt overwhelming to me, taking time to do that. I don't know why. I'm just not super fussy about my personal maintenance? Anyway, I've started doing that once or twice a day. The bottom of my feet will be okay for several hours, then it's a desert again. Will it ever stay better longer? Who knows. Will I tire of this and go back to having funky feet? Probably. Still, I always love a good experiment.
Oh, the other thing I decided to do was to stop biting my nails. I have always done it, and I don't care that I do it. But as long as I'm changing up my routine, I figured I'd throw that in, as well.
Finally, to address "the change" thing... For those keeping score, my current cycle has been 83 days. I've been fairly regular since I had D (and before that, I was on The Pill for 12 years, so it was like a clock), but in the past year, it's been slightly less predictable. Still 26-41 days. Once, it was 46 days, and then I was treated to 9 days of... um... fun? as a reward. No, thanks. This is definitely the longest by far.
I'm hoping maybe I pre-paid for this with all of the issues I had in my young adulthood and I'll be able to skate through to menopause without any major hot flashes or life upheavals. I have definitely noticed a change in my body shape, as explained in this paper, the summary of which is: "[G]oing through the menopause does not cause a woman to gain weight. However, the hormonal changes at the menopause are associated with a change in the the way that fat is distributed, leading to more belly (abdominal) fat."
Fortunately, I knew that was coming, so I was ready. And it's not even a big deal.
I've been walking at least a couple of miles a day for 19 months now, and have recently started breaking that up with doing core training every few days instead. I already see how my knees sometimes feel like they're weaker, so I'm doing lunges to give them more of a challenge. And when I started doing lunges, I realize that since I haven't done them in a long time, my balance was off a bit. So I'm also doing a few balance exercises to try to maintain as much mobility and agility as possible.
Injuring my back ten years ago showed me what a literal pain in the butt just plain existence can be when you're not at 100%, so I hope to put any falls or breaks off for as long as possible!
Okay, now that you know way too much about me, I'm ready to go to bed.
My body is tired of some stuff, guys, and I'm going to have to do things differently.
Lately, whenever I wear eyeliner, I have to use eyedrops. My eyes itch, they're dry, and I just can't wait to take it off. Yes, all eyeliner. Yes, even THAT eyeliner. I've tried them all. And I LOVE how "awake" I look and how it opens up my eyes when I wear eyeliner. But I think I have to be done with it.
This week, I've just used dark eye shadow at the eyelash line, and, while it's not perfect, it's been fine. At least I won't have to worry about whether it's run or flaked off? Sigh.
Another thing is my hair. It keeps getting so dried out and I will find and use a fairly expensive shampoo/conditioner that I love... for about a year, then I have to move on because my hair goes back to being crunchy hay and it's just no good.
After three years of this cycle, I have actually purchased a product from an MLM, which, if you know me, you know I AVOID. My friend's house-cleaning wipes were a pleasant surprise, so maybe this will be, too.
Beyond that, I might have made a half-decision (like kind of made it, but not overly committed to it yet). After twenty years, I think I might stop coloring my hair. I am sure my hair won't take it forever without just falling right out. It's been a good, LONG, run.
I did take a two-year-break at one point because I was super heavy, and for some reason decided that not having red hair would draw less attention to my fat body? And I also decided that bangs might help me look cuter. IT. WAS. A. MISTAKE. If you're a person who doesn't have bangs, but you're thinking about getting bangs: DO NOT GET BANGS.
Also, "trying to look less fat" is a vapid and needless pursuit, but I won't get on that soapbox at the moment.
Anyhoo, the color wasn't bad, but I ended up going back to red a couple of years later (and after my bangs had grown back out).
The color I have now is fading so subtly, it seems like I *might* be able to just let it grow out? We'll see. It might be more noticeable when the roots are 2 inches instead of 1/4 inch.
Now... another thing. I love where we live. LOVE IT. That said, I don't think I ever want to buy a house again.
Last Friday night, at 6:48 PM, our lawn mower (a human, not the machine) noticed that we had a pinhole leak in the pipe in the ground right behind our water meter. We got it fixed quickly (yay!) but it was $400.
Tonight at 10, we noticed our air conditioner wasn't working. The repair guy came out, but guess what? It's an electric problem, not an a/c problem! The electrician can get here shortly after 10 in the morning, so it won't be *too* hot. But still. Ugh. Oh, and it was $150 for the a/c service call. For nothing. I mean, I guess we did get some information, And I don't begrudge paying the dude for coming out (with his wife in the car; she was his girlfriend last time he made a late-Friday-night call, back in September when we were at Disney World and my parents and D handled it).
In short, being old is kind of awesome, but comes with some "mature" expenses and weird body changes that I'm sure have only barely begun, since I haven't started menopause yet.
Yesterday, my little guy wanted to video chat with someone. One set of grandparents was moving, and the other set had a special visitor (new great grandbaby!). We called Aunt Sister. She was in the car, but opened the call and left the phone sitting in its mount so Mal could see his cousins and chat for a bit.
Sarah was taking the three teenagers to their Wednesday night activities, and it was a little chaotic. There was apparently a crane fly in their car, and TJ, sitting behind Hannah, was messing with her, making her freak out that she was under attack by the insect. The kids were giving Sarah a hard time about her poor driving skills, and saying that 17-year-old permitted driver Hannah is a better driver than their mom.
After a few minutes, I started getting... what? Irritated? I thought, "They're obviously busy; this is an unnecessary call. I'm going to hang up."
But why was is chafing me?
I thought a bit and realized: I was jealous.
This sneaks up on me every once in a while, and I hate it. But it's true: When I see parents, and especially my contemporaries who have kids I've watched grow up alongside mine, having fun with their teen kids, sometimes, just sometimes, it stings. And I wish it didn't.
I've written about D's anxiety before, and how I don't think my child is "broken" or needs "fixing." It's true that I never had a mental picture of life in the future, in terms of a wedding or children or career... But, to be perfectly transparent, I also never foresaw a time when we would not be close.
Okay, we're close in the sense that I'm literally the only person to whom D talks. But anxiety has made my child a ghost, only appearing when necessary. We don't "hang out." D is very easily distracted by stressors, so when Mal is awake, it's pretty much a non-starter. James and I have gotten used to talking (and listening) over him; D can't do it. D has explained that this is one reason for the nocturnalism. If there is too much noise or light or stimuli, there is no focus.
So we're learning to accommodate these things, and usually, and especially with a toddler, most of the time, I can just deal without becoming morose. But then...
One of the ways my family of origin shows affection is teasing. And we laugh. A lot.
But it's been more than three years since I've been able to joke around with D. The book "The Highly Sensitive Child" helped me understand this better, but it's been a learning curve. Things I could have said half a decade ago now bring tears, and I am always thrown off by what is upsetting that I just did not anticipate.
It's very difficult to maintain a real relationship that doesn't include some jocularity. It's easy, in my self-focus, to be personally offended by the cringing away from hugs or touches. And although I wouldn't want my kid to be anything "different," I suppose that, also in my selfishness, I would love for our relationship to be more... friendly? Warm? Open?
In fact, the other day, D made a Wod-Fam-Choc-Sod, a vestige from our "Adventures in Odyssey" days. It was legit; looked like something that would be served at a commercial establishment. So I asked if I could take a picture of it (in D's presence, as opposed to the cake-things I've photographed and posted before). "Are you going to post it online?" "I might. Unless you'd rather that I didn't." "I do. I don't know why, but..."
So. It could be a lot worse. There could be rebellion, acting out, disrespect, or self-harm. I can't be angry with D, because it's not intentional. But I'm sad enough at times to be mad, so I guess I turn that into a sour-grapey "well, great for you and your freaking happy family." Which is not how I feel, for real. I don't wish anxiety or paranoia or any of those things on anyone else. I do realize that I have a precious soul to help try to protect until it can go out into the world on its own... And thank goodness we're still years away from that because... we're YEARS away from that.
Again, one might wonder why I'm even writing about this. First, because it helps me. I need it to be out there. If I am ever less than charming with you, maybe it'll help you understand why. Second, because it might help someone else? Give someone a little encouragement that they're not alone? Help some parent to realize that even a mouthy kid... well, at least they're talking to you? I'm grateful that my kid trusts me. I might mourn circumstance, but I rejoice that the children I have are mine.
Hey, I forgot to tell you about something I saw yesterday. For real. In a person's house. This is a button on a real microwave. Maybe you have one, but I'd never seen this before.
"Is it done?" "Nope." "How much longer?" "I don't know. I just need to cook it a bit more." Beep.
Okay, so we "fell back" in the wee hours of this morning. It meant nothing, of course, to my younger child, who was up at 6:10 AM. I'm just glad it wasn't earlier. Last week, he was waking up that early on Daylight Saving Time, so I was scared today would be a 5 AM start. Grateful we dodged that bullet.
We had some breakfast and I was trying to make sure James got to sleep in, so we took off pretty early. We usually go to the later church service, but we were too early even for early service, so I stopped by the office to get something out of the mail hold, and Mal played in the on-demand yoga room. (Yeah, I know. Fancy.)
Then we went to early church, and I got to look through the left-overs from the holiday bazaar I missed yesterday becasue we were out having adventures. We made it through about 2/3 of the service before Mal was walking out the door (literally), so we got to the gym just as it was opening.
By the way, until you've lived with this kid for, oh, two years or so, let's not talk to me about "What do you mean, he just left church? You make him stay. You're the parent." Tell you what, YOU make him stay, and I'll be super grateful.
Anyhoo, he played at the gym for an hour and a half, and I had to keep forcing him to take breaks because he was crazy tired, wearing himself out, and having an absolute ball, but I was afraid he was going to hurt himself.
When we got home, I was tired and I had some chores I needed to get done (vacuuming up, cleaning out the litter boxes, and getting the trash ready for pick-up). Also, I was exhausted. So I did what any sane person would do and pulled out of the closet the four legs and giant, heavy, solid wood top of the amazing Crate and Barrell dining room table someone gave us several months ago. Hyper toddler and a chance of rain? Seemed like a perfect time to spray-paint stuff out on the patio, right?
My sweet husband jumped right in, trading spray-painting with kid-wrangling, and we got two coats on that puppy, then brought it in, put the legs on, and I got one coat of the chalkboard paint put on the top of it. It's supposed to dry for 4 hours before I put a second (and final) coat of the chalkboard paint, but I just read that that time is based on 50% humidity, and it's 95% humidity here now, so I have to wait until tomorrow. When James isn't here.
Oh, and we have a giant dining room table (leaf inserted, because we have to paint the whole thing, of course) in our entry way. Like, we have to crawl under it to get out of the apartment. I'll probably move it into the dining area (we don't use as a dining area) when I'm confident it's dry, after moving Mal's slide out onto the patio with the Sit-and-Spin, the sand box, and the water table.
Ugh.
But did I mention that the table was free?
Okay, so here's the deal. I need some inspiration or something. I've been doing this "monitoring caloric intake" since my birthday week, or just over 2 months. I know I've lost weight because my clothes fit better and some other personal stuff I'm not telling you. I don't have a scale. I don't care about that.
What I'm finding, though, is that I'm bored with counting the calories, and I'm eating very weird because of it. Like I typically have all of my calories taken by about 4 PM (which was 3 PM today). It's stupid. Once I can't have any more food, I can tell myself, "Sorry, you're done," and not eat. Mostly. But when I think, "I only have 350 calories left? But I'm hungry and that's not a lot of food! What can I eat? Oh. I'll eat this thing. Ugh. I'm just going to eat it now and get it over with so I can stop thinking about it."
That sounds ridiculous, but it's what I'm doing. I hate this whole thing, but I don't want to lose the progress I've made, and I wouldn't mind losing a bit more. But I am slowly eating more because I feel like I have to or I'm just grumpy and blehh. And I don't like how I'm obsessing over when I can eat next, and what I can fit in. I hate this being an on and off companion in my life, big time.
Finally, here's another thing. Most of today's mania was brought on by hormones. I forgot to mention that I did vacuum, including putting on the pet attachment and going after a bunch of chairs. And the cat condo. Plus the trash, litter box, sweeping, etc. Also my lethargy about and resentment of the calorie-counting. I really hope I'm about to go through menopause because this is getting exhausting. I have this thing now where I kind of start my "girl time" three days before I *really* start it, but that results in ten days of... dealing with this garbage. And this time, it's like I did the "get ready" start, then the real thing, then it tapered off, and now today it's a second real start, so who knows how long it will last (today makes it a week so far). Ugh.
All day, I've been on and off about whether or not to write about this, but I'm struggling right now and decided to blog on the off chance that someone else might read it and think, "Me, too!" and feel less alone.
We've discussed before (like how I say that? I kind of feel like blogging can be a conversation, when people interact, anyway) my apparent inability to make and maintain friendships, namely with other women.
At many times in the past, my schedule was set up to allow for regular social interaction.
In Las Vegas, when D was Mal's age, I had weekly planning meetings at church: D went into childcare, and I sat with creative types, throwing ideas around, listening to music, and making each other laugh. Then on the weekends, I'd often sing or be in a drama, so I'd spend several hours on Saturday night and Sunday morning hanging out in the green room with people, eating together, sharing our lives.
Now, once, before D was born, I had a viewing party at my house because I'd been at a concert where I was definitely going to be in the televised video and no one but my friend Adrienne (and my family) showed up, and that kind of stung.
But there were other things, other get-togethers, and the big one when our planning meeting was postponed in lieu of helping me move the stuff from my house into a moving truck.
And that was all good. But, honestly, none of those people were "I have a couple of hours free; I should call so we can meet for anything other than coffee" people.
Then we moved to Texas. Again, it was easy to fall into a pattern of social scheduling: I joined a ladies' class that had regular "fellowships" (which were fun, even if they used to be highly structured to the point of being a little ridiculous), and a preschool-aged homeschool group (all of those kids are teenagers now; it's crazy!), and eventually the same thing with church and meetings. We did homeschool enrichment classes, and so most weeks spent a full day with other parents (and lots of kids). D got really involved in gymnastics, so I would chat with the moms there.
And then toward the end of our time in North Texas, I got involved in the theater and made some "hang out" friends, for the first time, people I knew not because they were other parents and our kids were small, but because we had a common interest. And that was really the first time I had "real" friends in my adult life. Then we moved.
We tried a few times to make forays into the homeschool community here (it's huge), but then D's anxiety started taking over and she's not up for big group events anymore. After Mal was born, I tried joining some different "mom" groups, and none of those took.
For a while, when we first moved, we had our small group, and then there have been other times where, say, my birthing center has had regularly-scheduled things to help get women out of the house and chatting. In the past year or so, every construct that was in place has slowly eroded.
When I go out these days, it's with my sweet little guy, and that's it. The other day, when D was up and making her "breakfast" (while Mal was taking his afternoon nap), I was talking to her about some stuff I'm dealing with with Mal and realized, even though I already knew it, that she couldn't care less. This wasn't something to waste the few minutes a day we get to talk on. I thought, "Good gravy, Mabel, this girl needs a friend."
Now, understand, I have a friend. A best friend. But he's a man. And he's an introvert. And he spends all day around people. And he's so good and attentive and sometimes, mostly in the morning, but sometimes at night, too, I feel like I'm blowing out his proverbial speakers... Like I'm talking, but we've hit a point where he can't absorb without it stressing him out. That's why God made more than one lady, I'm sure.
It's just interesting to me to think back and realize that I had a social network (in real life) and a regimen in the past that has lent the aura of friendships without genuinely producing friendships. I do have a couple of people that I see every few months, but if I'm stressed in the middle of the day and need to talk to someone? I just try to think about something else, stay in the moment with my kid, and do the thing.
In the past few months, I've just found myself struggling with loneliness quite a bit. And I'm not sure how to fix it, other than the last sentence of the paragraph above.
As an aside, I'm glad I get to stay home. It is, as I entitled this post, a blessing. It's huge. It's what I want to do. At some point in the very near future, however, I hope I'm again in the position to be a good friend to someone again.
After all that I posted yesterday, I had a "moment" today, which unfortunately fell during my birthday dinner, and which ended up making my husband feel like he'd not properly feted me, which isn't the case at all. I guess that's what he gets for having married a woman?
Anyway, I wanted to follow up because I want to be honest and real, and I sincerely felt and meant what all I said yesterday, but today... Well, today was another day. Fiddle dee dee.
Please excuse this admission: I got something for my birthday that I didn't want. It's something I get every single month, if you catch my drift. So that's not helping. Today, we received the copy of "All the World" that I ordered for Mal last week, and I wept reading it three different times. So that's where we are.
Another thing you should know is that last week, I installed sparkpeople on my phone because I need to track my calories. When I was pregnant, of course my appetite grew and I ate more. After I had Mal, that kind of continued; you burn lots of calories breastfeeding, so no biggie. But as he gets bigger, it's more and more difficult for me to lug him around, so I try not to as much. I encourage him to walk, so my exercise level is going down. He still nurses a lot, but I'm not sure how much he actually drinks, and he'll wean at some point... so we have to reign this in.
So I'm still in the two-week "calorie modulation" period where I'm just hungry a lot of the time. I really hate that. And I feel stupid for lining this up the week I'm on my period, too, because what kind of crazy person does that? Oh well. We're almost a week into it now, so we're plugging on...
Tonight, James got home and wanted to show me the Prisma app he'd downloaded. Unfortunately, the picture he snapped was of me turning around after having cut D a piece of my birthday cake. It was a very unflattering picture, and I told him, "That's revolting. I don't want to look at it." He was trying to show me the filters, but I said, "Seriously. I'll look when you take a different picture."
Because I'm nice.
Anyway, that was bad enough.
Soon after, I hounded D into letting me take a picture with her FOR MY BIRTHDAY. We squeezed into the chair in my bedroom, and James took a picture with my camera. I didn't look at it until a bit later, but, lort, it was awful. I just wanted our faces, in general, but the picture was at a weird angle like your shadow looks when it's late evening: giant freaking feet, big legs, smaller torso, itty bitty heads. I barely glanced at the pictures before deleting them, saying aloud that they wouldn't work.
At that exact moment, I'd been cutting a piece of cake for myself. Instead, I teared up and had to leave the room. My self-talk was seriously, "When you're this disgusting, you don't get to eat cake."
And I couldn't. Like it didn't sound good, and I knew it'd be dry in my mouth, and I just could not.
But James can't read my mind, and all he knows is that I've bitched at him for two different pictures, and now I'm not eating the cake he picked out for me.
It was on that note that he and Mal both went to bed super early tonight. So when my mom asked me if I'd enjoyed my birthday evening, I wasn't sure how to respond.
*sigh*
I did talk to James before he went to sleep. He said he feels like he never gets it "right" on days he tries to make me feel special. But he did everything right! He did stuff in advance. He got me what I asked for (See's Candy). He even picked out a cake and some cake pops (one of which I did have for breakfast this morning). AND he got me the awesome tablet on which I am writing this blog post right now. He would have done any of these things any day of the year, too, just because he loves me. This was actually kind of over the top for him.
But it's not about what he got me. It's that despite my ugliness, physical or emotional, actual or perceived, he loves me. He loves me and wants to be with me and wants to make me happy. And he does. But sometimes, it's just hard, you know? So I thought I'd share that with you.
Holla! Tomorrow is my first day in my early-mid-40s.
I have this system, see: When you turn, say 40, you're 40. Then 41-43 is the early 40s, 44-46 is the mid-40s, and 47-49 is the late 40s. 41 is the early-early-40s, 42 is the mid-early-40s, 43 is the late-early-40s, and so on. Anyhoo. Now you know.
I'm in my early-mid-40s.
I'm hitting the middle of the decade of official Middle Age.
And stuff is changing, man.
Old folks say things all of the time. Stuff like, "I still feel like a teenager inside; it's only when I see myself in the mirror that I realize..." And you think, "Sure you do, oldie." It just doesn't sink in. Until it does.
There have been several things I've noticed over the past few weeks and months that have really sneaked up on me (yes, that's grammatically correct), and it's shocking how freaking typical I am in this whole thing. I don't love being "average." Yet here I am.
In no particular order:
#1) Number One. This is likely a mixture of age and having recently had a kid. Gosh, I hope. Anyway, the thing is this: I have to sneak to the restroom without letting my body know that's where I'm headed. I can't even think, "Oh, good! It looks like I have a moment to go to the --- WHOOPS! NO! NOT NOW!!" Seriously. My eyeballs register the outside of a stall door and before I've even reached out to open it, it's like, "Release the Kraken!" Good gravy, Mabel! We still have a good six or seven seconds before it will be safe! So I can't share this information with my body, really; unfortunately, I don't know how to get my brain to cooperate with me on this one.
#2) Close-in Vision. I've been myopic enough to require corrective lenses since 1977 (which was 2nd grade, for those of you who, like I, hate unnecessary maths). This has rarely been a blast, especially as a small child and awkward teen, when glasses were either strictly utilitarian or just purposefully ugly. That's the only thing that makes sense.
However, my close-in vision has always been incredible. Without my contacts in, I can read the microprint on checks. I can read tiny print on anything, including pictures of stuff. And as long as my vision is uncorrected, I can still do this. However, if I'm trying to read anything smaller than regular book print, it's becoming more difficult to do so in less than perfect light, or with writing on a less-than-strictly-contrasting-colored background. It's frustrating because I could read this stuff with my contacts in/glasses on like FOUR SHORT MONTHS AGO. So what the heck?
James said it's because our lenses thicken as we age, rendering us less able to focus with the acuity we once had. I'm sure he's right, but that's just plain dumb. I exercise my eyes. They should repay me by staying fit. Jerks.
#3) Post-Baby Spread. I am not sure how much of this is strictly age and how much has to do with that plus having a baby. I'm going to blame it all on my little kid, because it's not a deal-breaker, and it makes me feel like less of a senior citizen to think I had some help.
Anyway, after I had Daphne, I just gained a bunch of weight and was generally fat. Then I lost the weight. That makes it all sound a lot simpler than it was. There was drama, there was work. Sure, all of that. But my weight gain was all-around and my weight loss took a bit of time and discipline, but it happened within less than a year of my deciding to fix things.
With Mal, my body is actually changing. The distribution is not typical for my body, and I don't know how to handle it.
First, I've never been very busty, and this nursing thing is keeping me plenty filled in up top. Next, apparently breastfeeding melts gluteal fat, so my posterior, in addition to getting a lot of use during frequent floor play and nursing sessions, is actually flatter because some of the fat is outta there. So that's weird. Mom butt. And THEN there's the tone I lost (YES, I HAD SOME) during the pregnancy, what with the stretching of the belly area, and its shrinking back down. There is also some left-over layering that is still there and I've read doesn't want to go away as long as I'm still nursing. I PROMISE YOU, BODY, I'M NOT IN DANGER OF STARVING.
Le sigh.
With this stuff, though, I know it's just a matter of making good choices and waiting it out. I have zero desire to do sit-ups or go to the gym at all. I love walking with my people, and I'll love riding my bike again once we get into a neighborhood where that's feasible... and I replace my stolen bike (grumble grumble grumble).
Still, it's weird not to know your body. It's expected during pregnancy, but now...
#4) The Sweating. PEOPLE. I have never been a big sweater. Austin is certainly hot and muggy, but even the first summer we were here wasn't that bad. Now, I sweat most of the time. I don't necessarily feel overly-warm. But my face is almost always shiny (and we'll get to the face thing in a minute), and especially when I get super stressed (which is several times daily due to my precious little boy), I find the flop sweat to be present in rather alarming quantities.
Also, the area under my eyes... sweats. A friend teased me about whether I had eye bags so this was the facial equivalent of under-boob sweat. It's not. And it seems to be "a thing." Seriously. I just Googled it. Don't, by the way. The recommendations are ridiculous. I don't use regular antiperspirant. Why would I use under-eye antiperspirant?
If it's this bad now, I shudder to think about the lake of steam I'm going to be when I actually start having hot flashes.
#5) My Complexion. Oh, goodness, this one hurts the baddest of all. My skin has always been pretty dang fabulous, and it's something I mostly took for granted except when I was in high school and realized I was fortunate only to have a few major zits rather than constant full-facial flare-ups. Even now, I'll get the cycle-related blemish every now and then, so that's not a huge problem. But, heaven help me, the discoloring! My skin isn't the same uniform color anymore. Some of the skin on my left cheek is, well, I guess there's nothing to call it but a giant age spot.
This is to say nothing of the status of my pores, of random facial hairs, and of the colorless permanent bumps that are cropping up across my forehead. Oh, and did I mention that many of my freckles are becoming three-dimensional? Yeah. Skin tags. Never had those before. Mal appreciates these, though. They give him something to play with when nursing. He's actually excised one of them and is working on two other ones. And, yes, it hurts like the Dickens.
#6) My Flexibility. I always swore that I'd be able to do a cartwheel and the splits forever. And I could. Until my ruptured disc. I can still cartwheel (though I get more dizzy now than I enjoy) and can mostly do the splits. I am working on those, trying to get a full split complete with my laying down flat on the floor, which I could do until four years ago. I blame this on my injury, and a lot of my loss of flexibility is due to this, but I didn't injure my back ever until I was just a couple of weeks shy of my 40th birthday, so this, too, is probably age-related.
I can get some of this back, but some is permanently gone. For example, I can bend over and touch my right toes without bending my right knee. I cannot do this with my left leg; the injury and sciatica messed that stuff up forever. So it's official: I'm past my prime, people.
#7) The Upside. I'm writing this blog post. Do you know how self-conscious I might have been about all of this stuff in the past? Do you know how little I wanted to expose any vulnerability?
Also, this stuff? It doesn't make me feel worthless or "less" anything. It's just reality. And I think that sort of emotional maturity is worth the price of admission.
Last week, my mom took a picture of me that I absolutely hated. She posted it on Facebook. At one time, I might have been tempted to ask her to take it down. I wasn't. I have too little time left to worry about petty crap like that.
Back to what the "old people" say: I have asked around recently, just to see how many of my contemporaries feel like they're actually truly responsible adults maneuvering through their lives, and most of them agree that they don't. I feel most like a grown-up when I'm actively parenting. Otherwise, I sincerely feel like a 16-year-old kid driving around town, just wanting to be happy and hang out with the people I love, and hoping not to do anything too stupid.
What's the cut-off age for stupid kiddy hairstyles?
Here's a very serious caveat: If you were born with a Y chromosome, this post is not for you. Nope. Move along, friend. Buh-bye.
Okay, just us Double Xes, then?
Hi there! You might remember (but probably don't) a review I did almost exactly four years ago on The Diva Cup. I was not overstating things when I insisted that it changed my life. It seriously did.
So, here we are, now six and a half years after this discovery, and guess what? I made another discovery.
Not an "instead," but an "and also." Why? Because life changes.
It's likely that the convergence of a couple of things have conspired to create an unsatisfactory (even more so than the usual) situation surrounding this here lady's menses.
First, I had a second baby. Shouldn't be surprising that that changes some stuff.
Second, I'm likely in the early stages (middle early?) of perimenopause. I think Perry Manypaws sounds like the name of a Disney character. No? How about Merry Pennypaws? Definitely. Someone get on that.
Anyhoo, since I'm breastfeeding -- yes, still -- I fully expected, based on the voracious nature of my son's desire for "la la" (he calls it) and his nearly-constant sucking reflex, that I'd get a break from my period for a year or so.
Unfortunately, that was not to be. About four months in...
Not only that, it was like high school grade awful. Extremely painful, making me more anemic than usual, and often lasting ten days. Oh, goodness, and the volume.
Since I have a Diva Cup, I know pretty much exactly how much I'm bleeding. It's terrifying.
And so, here is my problem: Even if I empty and clean up every single time I'm in the restroom (which is a lot, because I drink all day long; at least once an hour), I end up with leaks.
Ugh, it's been like a teenage dream... a nightmare: Switching underwear several times a day, STILL having to change pants, being nervous that something might have happened since last time I checked.
Hope none of the Ys are still here; I warned them!
As has everyone with internet access, I'd seen Thinx and it seemed really neat. Also expensive. But, after nearly a year of this, I was getting desperate. Six months ago or so, I read a very funny review that made me decide, "Eventually, I'm going to do this."
Get it? Thinking about Thinx.
Still. More than $30 a pair. Actually, that's about what a good bra costs. So, finally, after more and more of the same, I went for it. I was going to buy one pair and test it, then decided just to go for it, buy 5 (to save 15%) and hope for the best.
First things first: Sizing. Their website says, "You may have heard to size up, but our sizing now runs true to the size chart!" So I looked at their sizing chart. In real life, I wear a size 14, which would be XL. But I also measured myself, and according to that, I would be an XXXL! I waffled on which to do, and ended up ordering my actual, real-life size, measurements be darned.
I'm glad I did! So order your pant size and you'll be fine. Oh, and yay to them for sizing according to something that makes sense, as opposed to other women's underpants, in which I wear a 7 or 8, which roughly corresponds to... nothing else. Why?
Just Sunday, I had gotten dressed and left for church, ran to the restroom as soon as I got there, and had a disheartening, "Really?! ALREADY?!" reaction. Fortunately, I guess, I'd already gotten my dress dirty on some mystery substance in my car, so it wasn't like I didn't already need to change clothes. Sigh.
A day or two later, in the space of about half an hour, something happened so that a leak made it through the unattractive thick cotton underwear I'd strategically chosen, and through the thick denim seam at the crotch of my shorts! UGH!
Then, like a miracle, this package arrived this week! They didn't send me a notice of shipping, so I wasn't sure when to expect them. I was glad they got here during my period, but was kind of disappointed that it seemed to be on its way out. But silly me! It's only Day 5, and it's returned with a vengeance, so I'm getting a very solid chance to try them out.
Okay, first, here is what they look like lying on the floor and not on a cool model:
These are the "heavy flow" (2 tampon) hip-huggers. I didn't even notice until today that the lining of the nude pair is still black. That's nice. You don't have to see... you know. Stuff. But it's flawless on the outside; you can't see through to the black.
These are my favorite, the lighter day (1 tampon) boy shorts. I am still using my Diva Cup, so only want these as a backup. I pick boy shorts because I am a middle-aged woman who does not enjoy trying to manage wedgies or the roll-down that happens when I wear stuff that hits me under my natural waist. So, it's boy shorts. And there was much rejoicing.
First thing: These are seriously-engineered underpants. They look sturdy, and they're not bulky, but they're substantial. Kind of like I'd expect a girdle to be put together, except that when you put them on, they're very comfortable. I could tell instantly that I was going to enjoy wearing them.
The inner core part goes up fairly high in both the front (pictured) and the back. You can look on the website to see exactly how these are put together, but basically, the inner layer is some moisture-wicking tech (like your running shirts, for those of you who are into that sort of thing), then an anti-microbial, an absorbent layer, and then a leak guard layer.
So far, here is my experience: I know I've had a couple of pretty productive days, but they've been flawless. It hasn't even gotten through to the outside layer of the drawers, much less my pants.
But here's where I was really looking forward to a change: Overnight.
Remember that toddler I have? The one who still breastfeeds? He wakes up multiple times a night, and he flails. He also just sits up and starts randomly crawling around, occasionally falling off of the bed.
So at night, I literally wrestle a toddler. And all of that activity, plus usually an eight- to ten-hour time spread during which I can't empty out and start over has led to my having to do emergency sheet washes, and it's been truly embarrassing and stupid and pointless. I AM ALMOST 44 YEARS OLD. I NEED MY DIGNITY.
Anyway, they work! Not a drop.
Finally, I live in Austin, Texas. It is summer. Nothing, and I mean nothing "feel(s) dry!" Not here. Not now. Well, friends, I feel drier than usual. I mean drier than even when I'm not having my period and an wearing normal underthings.
Also, I've read about the"stank," and maybe you have, too. I think this might only be a deal if you free flow with them. Using the Diva Cup, there has been no discernable odor being what one unfortunately expects.
You know what I miss? The days when I could travel and not have a major emotional breakdown at least once during the trip. Seriously, what the heck?? I think it started with Haiti and has become my "thing" now. I don't like it!
So... after Mal's nap yesterday, we walked over to Bass Pro Shops. He was still so tired and didn't want to walk. so even though James is using his cane right now, we took turns carrying Mal because he just wouldn't budge... or he'd wrap himself around one of our legs so that no one could walk.
Ooh, look at the beautiful nature!
We had a neat time window-shopping at Bass Pro (I'd upload pictures, but the connection here stinks, so will wait until we're back in OKC). Then we went across the street to get Mal some "deedah" and French fries. After that, we serendipitously wandered into Triple Play Trailer Days or something sponsored by the Dodgers in the parking lot next to the Thunder baseball stadium. It was a bunch of food trucks, live music, and bounce houses. Mal danced around a lot, saw dogs, and had a good time. James got "Chicago-style" tacos which involve some kind of red meat and thin corn tortillas, and then we shared a slice of Southern Bourbon Buttermilk Pie.
When we got back, Mal watched some videos before bedtime. Then he ignored bedtime and stayed awake pretty much all night, waking and crying soon after nodding off each time, so we all kind of slept like garbage.
This morning, we got up, had breakfast, tried to get Mal to swim, but he was just exhausted and unwilling, so I went to get our car while James packed up the room. We reserved and paid for a sedan, but ended up with a super sweet Chevy Tahoe! It has third-row seating, rear-view camera, and a ton of features James could tell you about because he read the entire owner's manual online on our way from OKC to Van Buren.
Okay, so here's what happened with me and my stupid hormones and stress and stuff. Last night, I got a really bad feeling about the hotel I'd booked five months ago for our Arkansas stay. Like really really "don't stay there" bad. So I canceled and booked a suite across the river.
First, stupid Priceline... they told me I'd have to cancel through their booking partner and, no you can't do it online, you have to call, and while I was on hold with the booking partner, I found the website and searched and found a place to cancel online, and told the chat help she was wrong, and she totally ignored that. I've always had good luck with Priceline, but this was just dumb.
But anyway, so today we got our car and headed out early. D was awesome, getting up and being ready to go super quickly. Her hours are so different from ours, but she's a trooper on trips and has said that even though she doesn't participate in everything we do, she thinks getting out of the house and having a change of pace is nice for her.
We got into town at 12:30, and stopped by the hotel to see if we could check in early. They said no, they'd been sold out last night and were sold out again tonight and just couldn't swing it. No worries, we'd be back at 2. I went to the restroom where Mal hung out with me. I wanted to freshen up, so I put on some powder and eyeliner. Mal started freaking out about the fan in the bathroom, so I gathered up my makeup and we went out to the car. I could tell that the eyeliner had smeared because of my having to carry Mal around (looking up and stuff, which I can't do until it dries) so when we got out to the car, I wiped my whole face with a baby wipe and decided to start over after I was cool enough not to be sweating. I had thrown my make-up into the passenger seat of the car, then shoved it over to sit down while James went into the restroom and we decided where to eat.
D had kind of fallen asleep, so we were waking her up and I was putting my makeup back into my purse when I realized I'd been sitting a bit on some bb cream I have that is in a pump, and a lot of it had squeezed out onto the (fortunately leather) seat and all over the left leg of my pants. We were supposed to see James' family later, I only have one outfit for each day, and I might have uttered the F word repeatedly as I jumped out of the car to assess the damage.
I chalked this up to having not had much sleep for the past two nights. I was just done, emotionally. We walked across the street (down the road and across the street, and it was 100 degrees and NASTY) to Braum's for lunch. That place was filthy and the people working there were either slow or inept or both. After we ate, we killed time in the grocery, then James and I decided to get ice cream. The guy had never made what James ordered, and kept looking at the menu to see what was supposed to be on it, and it took so long James just told him to forget it. This was after he dumped one of my scoops into the floor because he wasn't paying attention to how he was holding the cone.
My point is: we were all hot and tired and ready to relax in our hotel. We walked back at two and apparently our sheets weren't dry yet. We were told it'd be another 20 minutes (it was more than half an hour). We hung out on the stairs. D played a game on my phone, and Mal just played. It's all the same to him. But he was so up-and-down and we were ready to be comfy.
I finally asked if we could just move our bags from our car into the room, and when we started doing that, James asked me where I was going to put Daphne. I said, "In the bed in the room, and we can sleep on the pull-out couch." He said, "Which room? There's only one room. Come look."
Well, the picture on the website shows the bed in a separate room, but apparently that's only the king suite with the hot tub. I told the lady we needed two rooms. They were sold out. I called another hotel in the area and they had rooms available tonight but not tomorrow night. I was exhausted and hopeless, and we were just going to get our bags, get back in the car, and figure out what to do.
The lady at the front desk, when told we were going to leave, said she'd show me one more room they had. It's a suite with two beds but they're just separated by a wall. We need a door. D has weird hours and she's a teenager who isn't related to James by blood. She needs her own space. I told the lady we'd rent another room, they didn't have to be connected. She said that she could have rented me the suite and its adjoining room, but they'd just sold it. But somehow, after being very concerned about how much I was crying, she managed to make it work and we were in our rooms by 4 PM, cranking down the functioning a/c. The suite where we were supposed to stay didn't seem to have a very effective unit, as it was set to 64 and pretty warm. D's room is set to 64 and it feels like a refrigerator case.
Finally, Mal got to watch his videos and I took a shower. Then the three of us headed out to see James' aunt and uncle. D stayed at the hotel to unwind. We actually tried to stop at Kopper Kettle Candies, but they're closed this weekend for the holiday.
Mal fell asleep in the car right before we got to James' family's house. He woke up when we got him out, but was just sort of whiny and "off" and nursing every five minutes for literally 6 seconds at a time, and asking for stuff we didn't understand, etc. He was sweet and cute and tried to be friendly and charming. He loved the dog, and was very interested in the bird. But he was spent.
I ended up following him outside, and he walked down to the pond. We spent some time gathering duck or goose feathers before it was time to go out to dinner. On our way back into town, Mal fell asleep again. We decided to drop James off at the restaurant, and I brought Mal back to the hotel so he could sleep.
Turns out I only had the key to D's room, but she let us hang out with her for an hour. I think it helped that Mal was asleep. James got home, let us out of the meat closet, and Mal's been asleep ever since. I'm hoping he sleeps better tonight, and I definitely need to get to bed NOW to monopolize on his exhaustion.
My elder child requested something a few months ago and I, ever the attentive mother, have been diligent in my compliance. Somehow, she didn't inherit any of the stalwart willpower I possess in astonishing amounts (as long as negative amounts count; which means that's sarcasm, for those of you who are new to this game).
Anyhoo, she said that if she knows we have junk food around, she will eat through it until it is gone. Now, personally, I see nothing wrong with that, except if she eats it all and then I want to eat it all, too. But other than that... Anyway, apparently she doesn't want to locust her way through the snack aisle of the grocery store the way that I do. So I've been buying less, and trying to make it super low key when I do.
About four weeks ago, Walgreens had a good sale on regular candy bars. I bought (yes, I remember exactly from my purchase a month ago. Shut up) a Heath Bar, white chocolate Kit Kat, Reese's big cup, and then noticed a flirty little 5th Avenue that I had to have. When I got home, I ate the 5th Avenue, then I set about trying to find a place to put the other three bars.
Do you see where this is going?
So... a week or so after my purchase, I decided I was in the mood for maybe a Kit Kat with smooth white chocolate coating. Sounds good, right? So I looked up in the place where I keep my spices, because I remembered putting the brown paper bag, carefully folded over to be compact and surreptitious, up there... But it wasn't there.
Then something buzzed in my brain about how that was right above the Instant Pot, and when I release the steam, it might affect the chocolate, so I *didn't* put it there. Had I put it in the regular pantry? That seemed kind of douchey, but I looked there, anyway.
I ended up looking in all of the cabinets and couldn't find it. I just gave up and decided that it might hit me where I put them later.
It didn't hit me, and over the next few days, I'd relook in all of the places I'd already looked when I was in the kitchen cooking, cleaning, or emptying the dishwasher. Seriously. Where were they?
In the ensuing weeks, I've looked in my bedroom drawers, bookshelves, and pretty much everywhere except under the counters anywhere because I wouldn't put them low enough for Mal to get to them, and I haven't looked in the laundry room or bathroom because they get hot and humid, and plus, gross: people and cats use it in there.
WHERE IS MY CANDY?
It was less than $2.50, but the contents of that bag represent a lot more to me in terms of memory and holding it together and my hope that at least a few of my brain cells still function!
So, there it is. This is my life now. Forever searching my home for my lost candies. Do you realize that the universe has trusted me with the care and well-being of TWO HUMAN CHILDREN? I cannot keep track of tiny bricks of chocolate, unable to move under their own volition, and yet I am supposedly competent to make sure that these kids survive until adulthood? Who's in charge around here?
This is nasty, all of it. So don't read it. It's mostly just for me.
My son got over the upchucking part of being sick after six times. That was his entree into illness of that type; he never spits up and had never thrown up (although he'd gagged up post-nasal drip stuff before) until Monday morning.
However... his body was very leery of food yesterday, which I understand and appreciate. What that means, though, is that he's back to primarily breastfeeding. This results in the "breastmilk poop" diapers... and those things are a freaking mess. He went through three pair of shorts yesterday, and at about 3:30 this morning managed to need a complete body wipe-down. I just threw the onesie he was wearing as pajamas away. There was a bit of stain from his first sick bit... he'd coincidentally eaten one of his last "puree pouches" Sunday morning and it had beets in it. So, very stained and I just couldn't make myself wash it again.
Fortunately, as a precaution in case he was ill again, I'd left one of the blankets spread out on top of our fitted sheet, so all we had to do was roll that up and put another one down (more insurance) and we were able to go back to sleep. But he was boobing the whole rest of the night.
Now for the next gross thing... I've been doing *so* much laundry due to the barfing and then the diaper-splosions... Well, now to add into that mix, I'm on my period. I'm in a FB group (more on that in a bit) and lots of people who are breastfeeding haven't had periods for like two years! They're worried because they want to conceive. Meanwhile, I got my period back when Mal was about four or five months old. Woo hoo. And it's not because he cut back on his eating; he did not. He has not. What happened was that my period has always loved to make me miserable and it couldn't wait to return.
Since this second full-term pregnancy, my periods have gotten worse than ever. Previously, there was seven good days of bleeding, along with some pretty severe PMS symptoms such as moodiness and cramps. Well, my cramps are not as bad as they were in high school, but the actual bleeding? WORSE. Now I'm looking at ten full days of bleeding per cycle, and there is a LOT of blood. Today, I happened to check. I have a Diva Cup, so if I'm really interested, I can look. In one hour, I expelled 7.5 ml of blood. So you can forget getting through the night without tending to it. Ugh. I'm just ready to menopause and be done with it.
In other disgusting news, I used to have a mole under my right arm. In fact, when Mal was a baby and I was worried about my supply, I'd sometimes press on it with my left hand when he was nursing. I mentally assigned it the title "Milk button" and imagined that when I pressed it, it would turn on the milk machine. I know, it's stupid. But if you've never willed yourself to produce enough milk, then good for you.
Anyway, my son's arms got long enough that he "found" the mole and would mess with it when he was nursing. It really hurt, and I might have been a bit of a baby complaining about it. One morning, though, James looked when I was getting dressed and said, "It's really red and inflamed!"
Long story slightly less long, he managed to crack it open, and it scabbed up, and now that it's healing... it's gone. When the scab goes, there will just be normal skin there (and maybe a little pinpoint scar?). No more mole. Who needs a dermatologist?
So, that's the icky stuff.
Here's an interesting (to me) thing, but you might also not love it. I recently joined a FB group called "Breastfeeding Older Babies and Beyond." I love it! It's a bunch of ladies who are nursing kids at least one year old. I needed somewhere to talk, even when I'm tired and overwhelmed, where the input wouldn't include tips about how it's time to force wean Mal. I'm not set on a date or anything; I want to try to take his lead when it comes to weaning. And the group has been great so far not only in making me feel "normal," but in changing my attitude about breastfeeding a bit. I'm getting a little more excited about it, rather than it being an inconvenience I'm willing to bear because I think it's the right thing for us to do. I even ordered a subway token necklace to commemorate one year of breastfeeding. Can't wait to wear it.
So that's all of the super fun stuff I wanted to remember. Don't ask me why. It's not all just about griping and funny stories, I guess.
Okay, people. I'm going to set the record straight about a few things, because it's either this or burn social media to the ground... and I don't know how to do that.
Here's the deal: We all have opinions (and these are mine). They're not all valid, but they're our right to have. However, sometimes, corporate "opinions" (often in the form of "infographics" or "memes") become so overwhelmingly prevalent, that it's just too much for this lady to handle.
Also, please excuse the curmudgeonly tone of this entry. I'm just starting a fun new lady cycle, and I also have a clogged lady duct, and though many of my male readers might think it's a fantasy come true to stay home all day playing with a boob, I can assure you that this has not been an enjoyable day.
Onward and... downward.
1. PEOPLE'S BEING MAD ABOUT A LION GETTING POINTLESSLY SHOT DOESN'T TAKE AWAY FROM ANY OTHER "LEGITIMATE" ISSUE. Firstly, because people are mostly mad online, which is the laziest form of anger. Secondly, I can be mad about animal cruelty (or behavior unbecoming someone claiming to be a sportsman) and still be even more angry about many other things. So. Many. "Causes." have been posting stuff all week to the tune of: "Oh, you can dismember and sell unborn babies but you can't kill a lion?" and "We're burning up the media with lion news, but we're not supposed to Tweet #blacklivesmatter?" Listen, keep fighting those fights. I promise you, people's upset about the slaughter of a big cat isn't taking away from anything else.
2. PLEASE, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY STOP POSTING CRAP ABOUT SOFT DRINKS. Guess what? It's 2015. No one thinks sodas are healthy. No one is deluded into thinking that drinking sugary, nutritionally-deficient beverages are a positive thing for the old human body, the same way no one thinks that eating cake is going to produce rock-hard abs and better heart health. But, like alcohol and unlike cigarettes, in moderation, having a soda every once in a while might be a lifestyle choice that makes people *happy*. So please shut up.
3. IF YOUR "NEWS" ITEM REFERS TO ANY ELECTED (OR APPOINTED OFFICIAL) BY A DISRESPECTFUL NICKNAME, GO FIND A MORE LEGITIMATE SOURCE OR DON'T SHARE. Maybe you have a right to be ticked off about this or that, but when your article comes from a URL that's loaded with bias or a site that refers to people as "President Poopy Pants" or "Secretary Stick-Up-Butt" or whatever... Dude, that's just rude. And we wonder why our kids don't have any respect? If you can't disagree with someone without slinging playground epithets at them, then your point is invalid. If you can't find someone who agrees with your point who can articulate it without the same, then all of you need to find a better point of view.
4. TAKE TWO MINUTES TO FIND THE ORIGINAL SOURCE AND LINK TO THAT SO THAT THE ORIGINAL CREATOR CAN GET INTERNET CRED, MAN! Once a video or picture goes "viral," other people start posting it all over the place. This week, someone posted to his Facebook business's page a video from YouTube that had gone viral the week before. People on Facebook discovered the FB video and shared it, which means that reposter got the clicks that belonged to the original creator of the video, not to him. The original video is awesome, and it's here, if you want to click on it and give the girl her props. I was going to link to the re-poster's site, but realized that it auto plays and so nope. No click-throughs for him.
This applies also to BuzzFeed, Hello Giggles, Bored Panda, Upworthy, FaithIt, and any number of sites who then post the links to social media promising one of several things: It will make you cry, you won't believe it, your faith in mankind will be restored, or your head will explode in a firework of ennui. If you must click on clickbait, STOP THE VIDEO before it starts and click on it so it opens up in YouTube and the person who made it gets credit.
Speaking of which, HOW CAN I GET A JOB FINDING VIDEOS I THINK ARE COOL AND SHARING THEM AND GETTING PAID CASH MONEY FOR IT?! (I'm practicing with the all caps writing; that seems to be a thing.)
5. THINK THROUGH THINGS BEFORE YOU POST MEAN-SPIRITED "JOKES" AND MEMES. Especially, I'll add, if you claim to love Jesus. But, really, even if you don't and you want to be a friend to anyone in your social media circle, think it through.
Oh my gosh, were you so sick of Caitlyn Jenner and this generation's freaks (although, really, she's pretty old; like, older than I am; like, closer to my parents' generation) that you felt better posting the picture of a cat that said, "Caitlyn Jenner's dog"? Whoo, good times.
Except what if a friend of yours has a kid struggling with gender identity? I know it seems pretty stupid to those of us who are cisgender. I mean, I'm a girl, right? What's there to "decide"? Guess what else? I've NEVER struggled with an alcohol addiction. I can drink or I can not drink; I really don't care. I leave it way more than I take it, and it's nothing to me. So, come on, "alcoholism" isn't really an illness. It's just someone's poor choices and they should deal with it right. Like I do.
Sounds pretty insensitive, right?
Imagine your very best friend has this secret, and it's hurting his heart: His daughter doesn't "feel" female, and this whole thing is very foreign to him. He doesn't want to feel ashamed, of his parenting or of his kid, but you posted that stupid meme, and basically said, "I am not a safe person! I have nothing for you but judgment and mockery!" Is that what you want to say to your best friend? It's easy for us to think, "Well, no, I mean, if it happened to someone near me, of course..." so why not start practicing empathy and thoughtfulness NOW?
I don't think anyone going through anything like this is having a great time. There might be some "celebration" once they've been through a struggle and come out the other side. But I've heard several times recently, "It's just so sad; when a kid 'comes out,' 'they' are so welcoming..." Well, if you don't like it, then GIVE THEM OTHER WELCOMING OPTIONS.
6. FINALLY, PEOPLE OF ALL POLITICAL LEANINGS HAVE SNARKY OPINIONS, BUT THE CATTIEST, UGLIEST THINGS I SEE TEND TO BE POSTED BY SOCIAL CONSERVATIVES. You guys, I'm not kidding. Calling people with opposite views "idiots," and just outright jeering and poisonous attitudes. I remember when the Bush II administration was winding down and liberals were celebrating, all of these same people were just horrified by the lack of respect and the downright meanness of the comedians, democrats, etc. Well, you guys have proven you can be just as bad, and even worse. And a lot of you are Christians, which is the part that embarrasses me. I mean, I can be a jerk. I'm probably being a jerk now. But I try not to be just hateful and dismissive of other people. Let's raise the bar a little bit.
So... my duct cleared, and my mind is clear, and I'm done. Let's keep it clean, people. Thanks.
Mal is five months old now and so much is awesome about him... but right now, I am discouraged, He is healthy. He is often hysterically happy. He makes us (James and me) laugh a lot. But he continues to be very, very demanding of my time and attention and I am weary.
"But of course he does!" you say. "He's a baby!"
No, I had another baby before this. I was not still strategizing my showers at this point. I was able to fix my hair. I could put on make-up other than when I was driving. I could make cinnamon rolls.
Mal's inability to sleep when he's down or alone is exhausting. I prioritize sitting because I know he needs sleep or he wouldn't be asleep, but I think of all I need to be doing and it stresses me out that I can't take care of these things when he's napping. He naps about 3 times a day, for 20 minutes to 2 hours. That's a lot of sitting for me. The only break I get is if he falls asleep in the car seat when we're out, and then I can usually buy 5 minutes to an hour.
So I first of all repent. I repent of the times I clucked my tongue at a mom "letting herself go." Or judged the BSF moms who never got their lessons done because, come on, we all have 24 hours in a day and it's just not that hard. Or developed a complete opinion of someone based on the fact that they shared a bed with their baby. I truly had no idea that a baby could be so needy for so long, and I am humbled.
There's this thing, though... I want to reach out. I want to ask for prayer. I want to stop crying at the drop of a hat and of being on the verge of a meltdown pretty much every second of every day. I love that my friends will do this for me. But there's another contingency of people who will add to their promise to pray with advice.
Well-meaning, but exhausting.
"You just have to..." they start out, often suggesting things I've tried that haven't worked for us. And often sounding so simple that you'd really have to be a dunderhead not to have it be successful for you. And it makes the stress WORSE.
"Moms have to take care of themselves first, or they can't take care of their families."
Sort of, yeah. But for a long stretch of time, that's proven impossible for me. Except for stress-eating. I'm doing that. That's how I'm taking care of me, I suppose. It's not horribly healthy, is it?
I'm leaving Mal alone in the church nursery. He has made it for half an hour twice. I don't really care to go anywhere for half an hour, so leaving him at home with someone (other than my sister) isn't an option.
This is where people say, "At some point, he's just going to have to cry."
Well, here's the deal: He's my kid, and I know him. I'm so much better at reading what he needs and wants, but there are some cries that are just absolute misery, and he's not going to calm down without me (and sometimes, he's not going to calm down with me). He gets a scared look in his eyes like "Why is this happening?" and I'm not going to leave him to deal with that alone until he's trained not to show his emotion.
There is a difference in fussiness and hysterics. I will often lay him down in his crib when he's fussy and I can't soothe him; very often, he'll calm down a bit... but never -- except that once a month ago -- go to sleep. At some point, he'll start realizing I'm not planning to come back, and he gets upset. VERY upset. Like, screaming, hyperventilating, rolling over and backing into the crib slats, getting his legs stuck awkwardly fits. The good part about this is that he usually manages to clear out his nasal congestion, very often all over his face or sheets. But that's one less thing for me to do, I suppose.
Anyway, this is all very defensive, and it's my point.
When well-meaning people give well-meaning advice, it can still put me on the defensive. I promise you, I'm trying a little bit of everything. My mom's heart and intuition tells me to keep doing what we're doing. I can only lie him down when he's sleeping and have him wake up instantly about 2-3 times before it makes me crazy, and I just have to hold him and let him get the rest he needs so he doesn't drive me crazy fussing from tiredness the rest of the day.
But the fact that I am pretty confident that we're on the right course with Mal does not lessen the stress of the moment. I don't know how much longer it's going to be like this. Forever? I cannot imagine how parents of special (constant) needs kids do it, especially if they already have children. Maybe he'll outgrow all of this when he's a year old. Or two. But I don't know. So even though I feel like we're doing the best we can for him and for us, I am deeply saddened by the fact that the rest of my family has to suffer with less attentive care (James is pretty okay with it; Daphne is another story). I am sad that I don't look "shiny" like I do in older pictures. I'm sad that I can't bake, or buy my own groceries, or clean my own house. I'm discouraged that I often wait hours from the first time I realize I need to use the restroom until I actually go. And this is not a matter of not wanting Mal to cry; it's a matter of his being asleep and my knowing he needs a full nap, so I dare not move lest he wake up.
Even moving into the kitchen to write this (with him on my lap on the nursing pillow), I had to get up from his floor, where I had been nursing him until my back started hurting, and he woke up and screamed and shook (he has a wonky little underdeveloped nervous system) until I was able to nurse him again and put him back to sleep.
Yesterday, I was talking to Daphne about this and told her that it's difficult, but probably the true way to look at things: We've talked before about how it seems like once you get all comfy in your life, things change. I told her that God doesn't necessarily want us to be "comfortable," as much as he wants us to be happy and fulfilled in him. I said that as taxing, exhausting, and even, yes, downright annoying as she might find her little brother, every time we start to get too stressed out, we have the choice to feed the part that says, "OMG, I can't even," or to choose to love a person who obviously needs more love and attention than other people do.
I firmly believe that God is using Mal to further smooth out my rough edges. And, dude, do I have them. With all of that in mind, I'd appreciate your prayers for me, my awesome husband, my sweet tired adolescent, and my teething buddy. And I'd appreciate it if you otherwise kept your mouth shut. :)
We just spent a week in Seattle. No, really. You can look at the pictures by clicking on the little thing at the bottom right of this slideshow.
We flew out on a Thursday evening, and Mal slept most of both flights (4 hours to San Francisco, 2 hours to Seattle). He was awake in the SF airport, which is probably the nicest airport I've ever visited. We had surprisingly great food, and it was clean and tech-friendly, with tons of outlets and places to sit with your computer (I wasn't packing, but I could appreciate it).
We loved Virgin Air. Each seat has a screen, and we could watch channels or movies or see where we were on Google Maps. I didn't rent headphones, so my favorite channel was GoPro. Also, it got as cold as -87 outside of the plane when we were at 36kish feet! Daphne bought a day's worth of internet so she could message her earthbound friends during the long journey.
This was my favorite video:
Our Town Car wasn't waiting for us at the Seattle airport, so the hotel (through whom we booked the car, even though it's not their drivers) reimbursed us for taking a taxi... so that saved us about $45 right off the bat!
We had a bottom floor room with a view of Elliott Bay, partially obstructed by a cruise terminal. No ships came or went while we were there, which is a bummer, but we got to hear lots of gull calls and ferry horns and loved looking outside.
Oh! Because we needed a lot of diapers and every checked bag costs, I had planned to have diapers shipped from Amazon. They're part of Prime Pantry and it costs $5.99 to ship, but the diapers took up only about 20% of the box. So I bought almond milk, chocolate granola cereal, Nut Thins, Slim Jims, assorted Goldfish, mixed nuts, pumpkin seeds, apple sauce (banana and strawberry) in pouches, sweet potato baby food, some rice puffs, fruit snacks, Diet Coke, and root beer.
Friday, we took the morning super easy. Mal woke up earliest, and I got a shower then took him down to the lobby so James and D could sleep a bit longer. We eventually made our way to Pike Place Market. Daphne was starting to get pretty hungry (James and I had been up longer and eaten some high-protein snacks), so we ducked into the first place we saw... Well, I saw. Buns in the window. It was a great Chinese restaurant, and we had the place to ourselves, even though they were doing a brisk delivery lunch while we were there.
We explored some more and found chocolate and cupcake shops. We bought chocolate and intended to go back later, but never made it. We spent some of the afternoon in our room -- which we did a lot; you know, infant and stuff -- and then went out to dinner at Marrakesh Mediterranean. It was delicious, and the server was so sweet to Mal, who was restless and then had a blow-out and eventually got fussy enough that I wrapped him in a blanket and carried him home while D and James finished dinner.
Saturday, we took the bus up to Green Lake, where James used to live. We overshot the stop for Beth's Cafe, where James used to eat breakfast (a place that is famous for their 12-egg omelet -- I saw it and it took up a whole pizza platter!), and ended up having to backtrack on foot. Well, luck would have it that we happened to stumble upon a Chocolati factory outlet. I'm not sure why those were rejects, but we got half price truffles! Most were $1.45!
We passed a store where everything was purple, and I was tempted... but the entrances on the street seemed to be locked; I guess you had to go in at the back, where there was parking. We finally made it to Beth's and had to wait outside about 15-20 minutes. The food was excellent, and it was a fun place! There was a table of two couples our waitress said must have been huffing before they came in because they were boisterous, crude, and ridiculous. However, it distracted from the fact that Mal was being noisy, so it didn't even bother me.
After lunch, we walked around about 1/3 of Green Lake and mingled with tons of locals. Mal slept the whole time, and Daphne counted dogs. So many dogs. Seattle seems like a very dog-friendly city. We got to see the dog park where James' pup used to play, too. Then we took the bus back home and chilled until dinner.
That night, we didn't want to walk too far, so we had dinner at the Bell Street Diner. Daphne used to love mac and cheese when she was a kid, and she got shrimp macaroni and cheese here. Looked fabulous! And we had a great view of the Ferris wheel from our table.
Sunday was the Super Bowl! We knew we wanted to watch it, and had been looking for a place to go that would be family-friendly. But Mal was the wild card, and I didn't want to have to leave early, so we'd decided to use our snacks and left-overs and have an in-room party. Actually, the restaurant in our hotel was listed in an online "family-friendly places to watch the Super Bowl" article, but it turned out that the restaurant itself closed at 3 and only the lounge was open for the game, and they don't allow anyone under 21.
For a morning event, we took a short walk to the Seattle Aquarium and spent a few hours there. Then we walked to Pike Place Market again for lunch. This time, we chose Lowell's and all had some fresh seafood of one type or another. D got clam chowder in a bread bowl, I had mixed seafood Louie, and James had fish tacos.
We loved watching the game, even though the last few minutes were dumb-founding! Daphne enjoyed being at the hotel and online for the whole afternoon, only looking up at the game every once in a while.
Monday morning, Daphne slept in and the rest of us took a rainy walk to Hook and Plow for breakfast. Then we all took advantage of the hotel's free shuttle and got a ride as far as the Space Needle (it was too cloudy all week to justify paying $20 to ascend it), from where we walked in the drizzle to EMP Museum next door. That was a blast! Everyone in our family actually participated and enjoyed it, which is saying something when you have a baby!
Daphne loved their Fantasy exhibits; Mal loved Sky Church with its two-story screen, and James liked the Star Wars costume special exhibit (as well as other stuff; he just spent the most time there). I loved it all, and, of course, hanging out with my family.
When we'd finished there, it was sunny for the only time we were in town. It was also windy and extremely chilly! Mal slept a long time in the museum and for most of the walk home. We passed Zulily headquarters, which made me fangirl a little bit, and weren't hungry enough to stop anywhere to eat.
Later that afternoon, we went to Paddy Coyne's, just two piers up from us, and I ordered two happy hour specials: sausage wrapped in puff pastry and their version of poutine, whatever it was called. Unfortunately, Mal didn't feel like sitting still. I walked outside with him and he was pleasant as all get out. go back to sit at the table, and he's squirm and scream. I told the others I was going back to the hotel and asked them to get my food to go. We had a beautiful walk home, getting to catch a sunset for the first and only time all week!
A few minutes later, my family followed. Rather than enjoying their meal at the restaurant, they got all of the food to go and we had a picnic. Love those people!
Tuesday, we took to public transportation again, heading up to James' favorite Mexican restaurant (after I spent the whole week telling him that a family from Austin was not going to do Mexican on our Northwest vacation; he'd put this on the "must see" list long before Mal was even born). Gordito's opened at 10:30 (12:30 to our bellies) and we'd planned it on the dot, but our bus was super fast!
When we arrived, it was raining, and we needed some zinc oxide for Mal (actually, we only thought we needed it; I had some in my purse that I didn't find until we were home), so we walked toward a drug store. On the way, we went into Top Ten Toys where, if getting home without checking luggage hadn't been an issue, we all could have spent way too much money.
By the time we browsed there and then got our diaper creme, Gordito's was open. I got a carrot, broccoli, and cauliflower burrito that was delicious! Daphne got a potato burrito, and James a spinach one. They have the word "healthy" in their name, but I think that portion size probably negates that. We all had left-overs.
Before we went all the way back to the hotel, we stopped to visit the Fremont Bridge Troll. Then it was back to our home base to pack, eat all of the left-overs, and rest up for an early morning.
This time, the Town Car was on site half an hour before we needed it, so we were able to take off in plenty of time to get to the airport. Mal is always pleasant in the mornings, and he did great. Our flight had been pushed back half an hour from when we initially purchased the tickets, and when I'd called to ask if our stopover meant we couldn't deplane, I was told that we'd have to stay on due to the short turnaround. I was dreading it! However, the flight crew stopped by to say hi to Mal after he woke up toward the end of the flight, and they told us we could get out and walk around. Daphne elected to stay on, so we went and got us all some lunch and discussed playing a trick on her where we wouldn't board until very late, just to make her a little nervous. We didn't; I'm not *that* mean.
Unfortunately, by this time, Mal had had enough of air travel. He didn't sleep on the flight at all, and he was mad about being restrained. Our saving grace was that the flight was not full. I was able to take up one whole row, letting him sit by himself, chew on the seat belts and arm rests (building immunity!), and crawl a bit. Also, the flight attendants let me stand in the back in their area (they were able to sit in the back row and watch TV since the flight was so empty), and Mal was great back there. He also liked the bathroom; he had fun putting his hands under the faucet. For some of the time, I sat him on the back of the seat in front of James, and I just stood in the aisle. Fortunately, most of the passengers around us had earphones or earbuds. I got a little stressed and cried a moment while James held Mal, and then about half an hour before landing, he finally decided to take a wee nap.
After that, the trek through the airport with my wearing him, the ride on the shuttle, and even the car ride home (we missed rush hour by about 20 minutes!) were fine. My sister and her son had been here to clean up after the cats; she even burned a vanilla candle, so it smelled nice.
We had a great trip. Very relaxing, as we were kind of forced to pause for Mal (actually, this would be D's preference, too... my inclination is to go go go go and keep going until collapse at bedtime!). Somewhat stressful, as traveling with an infant is bound to be. But great times together, and great teamwork, and I'm very glad that we went!
Now I'm looking forward to our next family vacation in a few months! No air travel, fortunately! Can't wait to hang out with these cool people again!
I'm getting it. I'm getting a lot accomplished now that I've stopped projecting everything into the future and just taking things as they come. This morning, I needed to get a lot done, so I wore Mal while he slept for an hour. Previously, I would have tried to put him down because, dang it, he *has* to learn how to sleep. But I read an article on "high needs" babies, and it helped me rethink things. I'm trying to do what works right this minute, and trust that everything will work out, the way it has a tendency to do.
So, this morning I did some cleaning, got dinner ready, caught up on email, and curled my hair (after this picture was taken) while he snoozed.
And for the first time since Mal was born, I'm looking forward to our vacation at the end of the month. I think we're going to have a lot of fun!
Here's something else... Daphne is amazing. I just have to say that first, because I'm going to follow up with a mystery. Daphne was on a Skype call with a friend Sunday, and they were both drawing. Daphne decided to draw two of her favorite characters, Dipper and Mabel Pines, from "Gravity Falls," in the style of "Ed, Edd, and Eddy." First of all, I think her Mabel is prettier than the original one. She probably spent four hours drawing on her Bamboo tablet (it has a different name now).
Yesterday, she colored the picture and spent another four hours on it. She is meticulous. Incredible. Focused. In her element. She even designed an outfit for Mabel, based on the "no broadcast" color scheme that used to air on the television when the feed went down.
Well, the picture was beautiful and I am so proud of her. She posted it to her tumblr... but today I looked and it wasn't there. This means she might have a tumblr account I don't know about. Must discuss. She probably also has another Instagram. *sigh* Kids. Just have to choose the right time to go at that...
