The weight of a conversation

Why is it that everything always comes easier to men? Or at least SEEM like it does? Especially in the weight loss department.

My weight is the bane of my existence. I have battled with it for as long as I can remember. Up, down, up, down, up, up, up. The scale never moves in the preferred direction, and now thanks to motherhood, it's perpetually stuck at a very scary number.

I still daydream about losing weight. I imagine what my body would feel like to loose just 15-20 lbs. How sexy I could be. Oh, you like what you see huh?

I'd probably still have my mommy pooch but at least my ass wouldn't spread out wider than the seat of a normal size chair.

My daydreams have a material connection. I still cling to a pair of skinny jeans in hopes that one day I'll return to that size. A pair of jeans I've owned since pre freshman-15, pre sophomore 15, pre newly-wed 9, pre I'm in a comfortable loving relationship and I've stop worrying about what I look like naked therefore I gained 20 lbs.

Oh who am I kidding, I still worry about what I look like naked. Lights off please. I gained the 20lbs because the husband and I have a mutual love of food.

But yesterday was too much. Yesterday, was the cherry on my whipped cream pie of a life.

The husband texts me to make a casual observation. Really I think he was just trying to poke me when I was down.

Husband: "Damn, I've lost 10lbs since I went to the doctor last" (which was just 3 weeks ago)

Me: "I hate you"

Husband: "No really, I weighed myself on the scale in the back of the warehouse."

Long pause as I consider the mental picture of the husband standing on what I'm sure is a giant industrial scale used to weigh pallets of dog food.

Me: "Congratulations."

Husband: "Thanks"

Me: "You missed the sarcasm"

Husband: "Oh"

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Who, what, where, when & how?

Holy Toledo Batman!

Has it really been almost 4 weeks since my last post!?! I guess am the epitome of a slacker, but I promise I've got good reason.

It's been a rough several of weeks around our house. Illness, home renovations, personal pleasure, personal strife. We've had it all.

Tyler got sick in early October, runny nose, hacking cough, getting up several times a night. The usual MO for his colds. I followed suit shortly after thanks in part to many mommy hugs accompanied by a cough in the face and a snotty nose tracks on my sleeve. Gotta love toddlers. Round 1 lasted about a week and a half.

The husband was lucky enough to be taking his "vacation" right smack dab in the middle of round 1. I'll put "vacation" in quotation marks because we didn't really go anywhere, it was more of a mental vacation for him. My loving husband actually sacrificed his remaining 1 week vacation time to strip, sand & repaint our lower level. I knew there was a reason I loved him

The downside was, I was sick and the project was taking over the house. It was a disaster, and I didn't have the energy to clean up behind him. But it didn't much matter because the husband was home for an entire week.

I love it when he's home. I love having a normal home life, where we have dinner every night at 5pm as a family, I have an extra set of hands in the morning to wrangle and dressed a fickle toddler, not having to have normal marital conversations via text and just relaxing, watching TV and being content knowing my husband is in the same room with me.

What I don't love is my snoring, flat on his back, pillow stealing, blanket hogging, diagonal spread eagle sleeping husband. He is the WORST person to sleep with.

So sleep was very elusive that week he was home.

At the tail end of the husband's vacation he started to show signs of getting sick. Just as Tyler and I were starting to feel better.

But 3 days later Tyler got hives, again. The second time since August. Then he started running a fever, had a cough, a runny nose and had an earache. Begin Round 2. I freaked, all I could think of was Tyler had H1N1 (a quick shout out to the national media for their expertness in fear-mongering and their ability to make this normally sane, easy going mommy a nervous wreck). Even the nurses were thinking H1N1. Hence the lovely face mask.

The doctor, thankfully said it was just a sinus infection, prescribed some antibiotics and said he should be feeling better in about 48hrs. Whew!

That was Tuesday. By this past Saturday, I also began round 2 of sickness. This time, it was more sinus pressure than the achiness I had last time. Thank you Tyler. Mwah!

So, needless to say, our family is living in one giant petri dish of germs, just passing the ickies back and forth to each other.

Illness, however wasn't the only reason I failed to post. There is also an emotional factor involved.

While all of the lovely germies were being passed around and we were wallowing in our misery. The husband and I were pregnant.

I stress the were in that statement.

After a week and a half of dealing with a sickness, what I thought was a UTI and an early lackluster period, I tested positive on a Saturday morning.

The husband and I were ecstatic, because it is no secret that we've been trying since late July for #2. And despite all the signs that it might not look promising, we were giddy with excitement and could barely wait for the doctor's office to open Monday morning. We even called and told the husband's sister, my dad and my step mom.

However, after some blood work, a doctor's visit that she said everything looked great, and some more blood work it was determined that I was in fact miscarrying.

It was early. I was maybe 3-4 weeks. Barely pregnant, what doctors would call a "chemical pregnancy". There is no pain or discomfort, only the inconvenience of having a 3 week long period. But the emotional pain is not easily observed.

Due to personal family issues, our plans of trying for #2 had been put on hold for nearly a year. So by July, when I felt we were comfortable enough to begin trying, I was in full blown baby fever mode. The kind where your biological clock is beating you over the head with a hammer and you feel pangs of jealously for every woman you see lucky enough to be pregnant.

So I grieve. silently. Because I know this isn't the end of the road for us, it's just the beginning. But it doesn't lessen the pain. Just enforces the fact that we must start all over.

Ok, pity party for one over. There's my update. Onward and upward. And I promise to post again tomorrow. See you then.

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Maybe yes, Maybe no

It's happening.

The incessant demanding of material items viewed on television, specifically marketed to young children at a time in which is most likely to result in a favorable manner for the child and the toy manufactures.

The evil ones know my weakness. You can requests just about anything from me (flame thrower maybe?) before 8am and several cups of coffee.

Today, at 7am, I was forced to turn on non-commercial free cartoons because Blues Clues and Mickey Mouse just weren't cutting it for my fickle toddler. After multiple trips through the cartoon channel line-up, we decided to go with Phineas and Ferb. Not a bad show in it's own right. Kinda cute actually, and a nice alternative to the typical toddler shows that make me want to beat my head against a wall repeatedly. Anyone who's sat and watched hour after hour of Little Bear, Little Bill, Franklin, Max n Ruby, or Ni Hao Kai-Lan can attest to my pain.

It also wasn't Spongebob which I detest. So a small personal victory. ya!

The first commercial was for a Barbie princess castle. It was bright pink, Barbie was wearing a ball gown similar to Cinderella and small plastic heels. I knew instantly this would send the husband into hysterics that would result in a downward spiral of self doubt about his ability to raise a masculine son.

Immediate veto.

Next was a commercial for Handy Manny's fix-it motorcycle with side car. The tools would ride along enjoying the breeze on their steely faces and could at a moments notice hop out, do their tool thing, detach the side car and Manny could have a chopper. Nice! [nodding in approval]

I turn and glance at Tyler, smile and give a thumbs up. Nothing. Bummer.

And moving on to the next commercial.

Bakugan. The next commercial was for Bakugan. The small battle robots, transformers, action figures heck I don't know what they are but Tyler lurched forward and stared with his mouth half open. The commercial continued to suck my child in with his pointing, and head nodding and constant Ya, Ya, Ya, Ya, Ya's. Then it came.

I want!

Mama, I want!

I looked back at the screen and all I could see in my mind were these small things taking over my house, being flung at me in fits of rage, and strewn all over the floor with their sharp pointy edges just lying in wait to poke me in the foot in a darken hallway after accidentally stepping on them for the 100th time.

I made a cringey face. I don't want to step on something pointy, it'll hurt.

So I turned to Tyler with a compromise.

How about a nice stuffed Elmo doll? Wouldn't that be a nice safe toy to play with? [nodding]

I got a short, curt NO response and a head shake to my obviously ridiculous question.

[embarrassed laugh] Silly mommy, what was I thinking.

So I busted out the mommy secret weapon.

The "maybe" response. The "maybe" response is genius because we mommy's can give our child hope without looking like the bad guy. We can escape sticky situations while diverting attention away from the item in question. But our "maybe" response is not delivered with qualifications therefore the promise can be recalled later and blamed on disapproving behavior of the child. It's fool proof!

Maybe, buddy. We'll see. Let's go get changed for the sitters now.

Tomorrow, it's back to Noggin.

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