You're Not Fat

Fat is what happens to you the weeks after you push a baby out of your vagina ... or in my case, have one cut out of your belly.

If you're a woman you've no doubt felt "fat" at some point in your life. And while some of us (me) obsessed over food and thigh circumference, others might have only felt a tad bloated every now and then and moved on. But still, we've all felt it at some point.

Looking back at my pre-pregnancy body I realize how completely out-of-whack my perception of my body image was. I wasn't fat. Until I got pregnant, and then I didn't really care because I had a cute belly and you were allowed to gain weight. When I was 38 weeks pregnant the scale read 195 ... that's when it finally sunk in. I was fat. And after this baby comes out I will still be fat. I, unfortunately, will not be giving birth to a 60 pound baby. Dang it.

The weeks after Brandt was born my belly was floppy and droopy and squishy. Not unlike what you would visualize with the phrase "bowl-full-of-jelly". I jiggled. And when I laughed at my belly, it jiggled even more.

That's what fat feels like.

But I'm proud to say that I've done something about it. I feel great about my body and am no longer self conscious when I wear a bathing suit. I'm not skinny and I still have thigh fat, but you know what? Who freaking cares! We can't all look like Heidi Klum did 8 weeks after giving birth. I feel so much better about myself now than I ever have in my entire life. It's so much easier to not obsess.

I'm not saying this body-image transformation happened while I sat on the couch and ate Cheetos. I've worked hard, and I think just going to the gym 3-5 days a week has helped me feel this way. I pushed myself harder than I ever have and I feel strong. I feel healthy. And even though I'm not the size 4 I used to be, I feel so much more content with who I am.

.... and the bottom drops out

How do you stop that feeling in your stomach? You know, the sinking feeling ... the knots ... the uncertainty. The feeling deep down that ultimately makes you want to cry. Cry hard.

I'm scared to go back to work. This is the hardest decision I've ever had to make, and although I still haven't 100% decided anything, just the thought process makes me sick to my stomach.

I never considered myself to be the stay-at-home-mom type ... I figured I had earned my bachelor's degree so why the hell would I "waste" it by removing myself from the workforce. Well, as things worked out I got laid off when I was 7 months pregnant which I considered to be perfect timing. Joe was doing exceptionally well and I got a severance package, so I knew we'd be ok. And things were going along wonderfully. But I always had that thought in the back of my head ... when will the bottom fall out?

I can't tell you an exact date, although the unravelling began in September of 2007 when Joe lost his job due to the mortgage crisis. But we were ok. Joe was surprisingly optimistic. We had savings, Joe got a severance, and we were sure he'd find a job quickly. He did, but not the right one. And the next one didn't work out so well either. And now it's 10 months later. And we're ok, but the savings we had is almost gone and our optimism has dwindled to the point of plain old panic in the form of "what are we going to do?"

And with all of this going on, how can I be so selfish? I'm so scared to leave him. My baby boy. There is no universal answer to the seemingly simple question: "What do you do for a living?" You can't win. And I don't want to turn this post into a SAHM vs. Working Moms, because both choices exist with their own sets of challenges and frustrations.

So ... how do I choose what's best for my family? Is it better for us to cut back on everything so that I can stay home with my son .... or is it better for me to return to work full time in order to provide financial security? It sounds so silly ... like the right answer would be financial security, because that's the practical thing to do. But isn't there more to life than money? What does money buy, other than food & shelter? Stuff.

I have enough stuff.

Thrilled with a capital HELL YEAH!

Brandt took a 2 hour nap.

Dear God,
Thank You.
-Karen

One of Those Days

Brandt woke up at 4:30am. I think he fell back asleep for a bit, but then I heard him again a little after 5am. No crying, just making little noises ... kind of like he wasn't quite awake but he wanted to get up. I finally went to get him at 5:50, but I pretty much was just laying in bed awake from 4:30 on. Yay.

I have no idea what I'm doing when it comes to his sleeping & napping ... and it gets very frustrating.

Entitlement

It seems that a growing number of children/adolescents ... hell, even adults ... are existing in their own sense of entitlement. This particular group of people seems to think that everything should be handed to them, and that they should not be held responsible for their actions because there's always someone/something they can blame it on. And why aren't more parents teaching their children common courtesy and manners?

Check out Mom-101. She has some great blogs about etiquette.

I can only hope that Brandt will learn from my actions, as well as Joe's, because I want my child to be polite to others. And he will know what it means to be personally accountable for his actions. I will not raise a child who feels entitled. That's irresponsible.

Double-Take

So I'm at the mall this morning, giving Brandt some much needed run-around-and-play time somewhere other than my house. Not too busy, since we're there at 9:30 before the stores are open, and there are only about 12 kids/babies in the play area. Nothing weird ... just the regular playing around and good times had by all. Then I do one of those double takes ... you know, the kind where you try not to look like you're looking but you really want to confirm you just saw what you think you saw.

Now I'm pro-breastfeeding, although not to the breastfeed-or-die extremes that some women preach. And I nursed Brandt until he was 15 months old, although by that time he was only nursing once per 24 hours, just right before bed. I was never much a fan of the demand-feeding style after Brandt was 4 months old. But I consider myself to be pretty open-minded to the whole "nursing in public" process. I did it many times when Brandt was younger and still nursed a few times during the day. Just setting the stage for my next paragraph. Are you ready?

This kid, not baby, probably 2.5 years old (maybe older, I don't know) walks up to his mother and DEMANDS the boob. I then watch as she discreetly (you had to give her that) pries her breast out of her shirt and allows her kid to stand there and have a drink. Okay, this is where the whole double-take process begins. I didn't want to stare, and I didn't want her to think I was horrified (although I kind of was) ... but I had to look again to make sure he really was standing there with his mouth on his mother's boob. And a few minutes later when I just had to have another look, I see that he has switched sides.

Part of me wanted her to know that I nursed my son as well (kind of like we're in the same club), but part of me wanted to slap her across the face and yell, "Enough is enough! Reclaim your breasts!" I could tell she was a little concerned about allowing her son to nurse at the mall. I saw a few times where he would poke and prod at her boobs and try to take them out to nurse some more. She didn't seem at all pleased by that. But if that's the case, why has she allowed him to continue nursing this long? Or if it is in fact her choice to still be nursing, at least set up some ground rules ... like "After 18 months, no sucking boob at the mall."

New Phone

YAY for my $150 rebate eligibility. I finally have a (fingers crossed) phone that's not a piece of crap. Here's hoping.

Although the picture doesn't do it justice. It's a lot prettier in real life.