How I reached 200 pounds.
Growing up I never really had a weight problem that I could remember. I fluctuated but I was always pretty athletic and lean. I was a competitive swimmer who dabbled in other sports. And loved anything that involved activity or exercise.
Basically I liked showing up my male friends/athletes.
I was a size 10 at my largest. A 4 at my slimmest - depending on my activities and schedule. My relationship with food was a healthy one. I stopped when I was full. I never deprived myself or thought I was fat.
Life was good.
But then things went very very wrong. What you will read has taken me a LONG time to come to terms with. And I must say that for those that urged me to go to therapy, I thank you.
When I graduated college in 2001. I was at a point where I was happy, I was self-confident and I felt the most beautiful than I ever had in my life. I had friends in all social circles - athletes, geeks, jocks, etc. There was never a place on campus I didn't feel I fit in. I even had dated a few well-known guys on campus who always treated with me respect and one in particular who never let me doubt my self-confidence or ability to achieve my dreams.
I had a degree in communications witih a focus on sports journalism. I wasn't afraid to tackle a "man's world." I was excited about life.
But then I moved to start my first job - as a copy editor at a newspaper near another college town that was halfway between my alama mater and my parents home.
Perfect I thought. Only an hour drive either way to see family or friends and a foot in the door for my industry.
But then I moved and started working.
Within a few weeks of working at the paper, I got a bit homesick, but some coworkers my age befriended me and started to introduce me to some other local journalist types.
I became fast friends with one, a sports writer for a dinky publication in the area. He was funny and reminded me of a few of my best guy friends from college.
I felt a bit better knowing some people in the area.
But the more we started to hang out - always in groups, the more I started to be around this guy the more I started to get the feeling that something wasn't quite the same.
My comfort level was starting to mimic that of Shaquille O'Neil in stripper heels and a tutu.
You're not a fan of it, but you can't look away either.
He first started by putting my writing skills down. He would look at my articles from college and pick then to pieces, telling me it was crappy writing and that I was kidding myself.
Then he would poke fun at my body, offering to go jogging with me to get the chub I guess I was developing off.....
And did I mention we WERE'NT dating. But for some odd reason I didn't stop hanging out with him either.
Then it happened. Me being the idiot who always lives by a three-strikes and your out rule - went over to his house one night to hang out and watch movies.
I was under the impression his roomates would be there as well - only they weren't
When I walked in he seemed "off" His eyes were dialted and he seemed like he was on something. I was sitting next to him on the couch, when he basically jumped on me and started groping and trying to kiss me. He called me a tease and knowing I was a virgin tried attacking my values as well. He was determined.
I still have a hard time acknowloding it happened.
Thankfully I managed to get out of the situation before anything worse happened, though when I think back, I'm not sure how I did.
All I remember is getting home and calling my best friend Paul. A friend I've had since we were 13, who was a groomsmen in my eventual wedding to my husband, and someone I knew who would listen to me. I was hysterical.
He immediatly drove up to stay with me, because the guy kept calling me and knew where I lived. T his went on for a week.
It was then that I stopped exercising,I was afraid to leave the house, I started eating for comfort and from stress and the pounds just kept on coming. I withdrew from friends and stopped going out. I eventually decided to get a new job and move back home -though no one new it wasn't so I could write sports, but to just get away.
In my mind I thought I had brought this on myself. That I wasn't smart enough to listen to my gut instincts. And when I discovered he was bad-mouthing me to the small college community where we lived and to my coworkers all I wanted to do was get away.
I didn't think to defend myself. I didn't think to tell anyone what he did. All I knew was I didn't want to be attatcked again - even verbally.
My self-confidence was gone and I started sinking into a depression that until a few months ago, I had become an expert at covering up from those around me. I lost value in myself and found myself in either dating relationships or friendships where I was a giver and never a taker.
I have found that since that incident I turn to food in times of high stress. I tend to hole up in my house and just eat crap. I don't crave it, I don't want it but for some reason I think it will make me feel better.
Today I ate cereal, homemade pizza, chicken nuggets... and it's not even 3 p.m. yet. I'm not hungry but I'm typing here in an effort to acknowledge my problem and keep my from shoving food into my mouth.
I hate myself and the way I look for eating like this, but then I eat like this because I hate myself and the way I look.
I'm like a goldfish swimming in circles, everytime I think I have it figured out I'm back at where I started.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Toddlers, Teeth and Me.....
Having a toddler is like playing Russion Roulette. It's riskier than a blind man trimming his nether regions.
The hubby has offically been gone a month "playing in the water" as I sometimes tell our two-year-old. Of course being an Electrician's Mate aka Nuke, us Navy gals know that explanation is about as far-off as saying Ashlee Simpson is the next Virgin Mary.
It never fails that as soon as patrol starts the drama begins. My friend Christine says that the stuff that happens to me during patrols is so crazy that I can't make this stuff up.
Here are a few examples of patrols past:
* 1 week before they are slated to leave, the hubby flies home and sees his grandma just 15 minutes before she passes. Five days later, my grandfather passes. The next day the hubby leave on a 90-day patrol.
* While driving down for the funerals, the splash guard of my car comes off. We 9brother and I) proceed to drive with it crammed in the back through two states with an overloaded car and screming toddler
* The kiddo develops a double ear and eye infection the day before the funerals. He has such a bad reaction to the meds that I miss both funerals.....
Yeah, I know..... there's more.....
The house repairs we started before the hubby left, overlaps into the patrol. 7K worth of work turns into nearly 16K due to uncovered rot and other damage.
That's just ONE patrol folks.
This is now patrol No. 5 and just three-weeks into it the drama began.
I've come to the conclusion that the U.S. military should start using toddlers as secret weapons. If anyone has ever seen a toddler in full on tantrum mode then you know what I mean.
BAD THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GO DOWN.
There is nothing more scary or dangerous than a hungry, tired, pissed off toddler. And trying to gain control of one during this state is like trying to put a diaper on a doberman.... you just don't do it.
After three hours of wonderful bliss spent at a local pumpkin farm, some friends and I decided to push our luck and go eat. My son's eyes were a bit droopy, his face a bit pouty, but I was hungry darnit.
And nothing comes between a PMSing mom than a burger and fries....nothing but a tantruming toddler that is.
Right outside the restaurant my son starts having a fit. He throws himself on the ground, he arches his back. He kicks his legs. He was giving the best performance of this short little life.
And by short little life, I mean short..... he's lucky I didn't decide right then and there to sell him on the black market.
I bent down to pick him up and BAM! His huge noggin connected with my chin. There was a moment of shock, then a moment of.....WHAT THE.....
Yep, in one second my son managed to turn my smile from pretty and pearly to gnarly and gapped.
My front top teeth were chipped, a premolar was half gone and two of my eye teeth were dinged. He sure doesn't do anything halfway.
This was a Sunday afternoon.
A few phone calls later and I found myself making three differnt trips to the dentist over the next few days. Thank god the hubby got his bonus. I know he wanted to marry a women like his mother... but I'm not sure he was referring to her dentures.
I love you Georgia!
*If it wasn't for my mother-in-law's uncanny wit and ability to make me laugh at such a situation (heck she raised my husband after all) I would be in in a dark closet rocking back and forth harder than a cat doing a calculus problem.
Did I mention we were only a MONTH into patrol.......
The hubby has offically been gone a month "playing in the water" as I sometimes tell our two-year-old. Of course being an Electrician's Mate aka Nuke, us Navy gals know that explanation is about as far-off as saying Ashlee Simpson is the next Virgin Mary.
It never fails that as soon as patrol starts the drama begins. My friend Christine says that the stuff that happens to me during patrols is so crazy that I can't make this stuff up.
Here are a few examples of patrols past:
* 1 week before they are slated to leave, the hubby flies home and sees his grandma just 15 minutes before she passes. Five days later, my grandfather passes. The next day the hubby leave on a 90-day patrol.
* While driving down for the funerals, the splash guard of my car comes off. We 9brother and I) proceed to drive with it crammed in the back through two states with an overloaded car and screming toddler
* The kiddo develops a double ear and eye infection the day before the funerals. He has such a bad reaction to the meds that I miss both funerals.....
Yeah, I know..... there's more.....
The house repairs we started before the hubby left, overlaps into the patrol. 7K worth of work turns into nearly 16K due to uncovered rot and other damage.
That's just ONE patrol folks.
This is now patrol No. 5 and just three-weeks into it the drama began.
I've come to the conclusion that the U.S. military should start using toddlers as secret weapons. If anyone has ever seen a toddler in full on tantrum mode then you know what I mean.
BAD THINGS ARE ABOUT TO GO DOWN.
There is nothing more scary or dangerous than a hungry, tired, pissed off toddler. And trying to gain control of one during this state is like trying to put a diaper on a doberman.... you just don't do it.
After three hours of wonderful bliss spent at a local pumpkin farm, some friends and I decided to push our luck and go eat. My son's eyes were a bit droopy, his face a bit pouty, but I was hungry darnit.
And nothing comes between a PMSing mom than a burger and fries....nothing but a tantruming toddler that is.
Right outside the restaurant my son starts having a fit. He throws himself on the ground, he arches his back. He kicks his legs. He was giving the best performance of this short little life.
And by short little life, I mean short..... he's lucky I didn't decide right then and there to sell him on the black market.
I bent down to pick him up and BAM! His huge noggin connected with my chin. There was a moment of shock, then a moment of.....WHAT THE.....
Yep, in one second my son managed to turn my smile from pretty and pearly to gnarly and gapped.
My front top teeth were chipped, a premolar was half gone and two of my eye teeth were dinged. He sure doesn't do anything halfway.
This was a Sunday afternoon.
A few phone calls later and I found myself making three differnt trips to the dentist over the next few days. Thank god the hubby got his bonus. I know he wanted to marry a women like his mother... but I'm not sure he was referring to her dentures.
I love you Georgia!
*If it wasn't for my mother-in-law's uncanny wit and ability to make me laugh at such a situation (heck she raised my husband after all) I would be in in a dark closet rocking back and forth harder than a cat doing a calculus problem.
Did I mention we were only a MONTH into patrol.......
Saturday, November 1, 2008
Moose Musings
Why is it that when it comes to volunteering I have this horrible habit of saying yes, faster than Angelina Jolie collects children.
Whoever said that "it's all worth it in the end" is the person who does about as much work as a babboon scratching his butt.
Why is it that a basket of folded laundry is much more appealing to a toddler than a basket of unfolded laundry?
Leave the kid alone for two seconds and he can unfold, scatter and destroy four loads of neatly folded clothing while somehow managing to turn the basket into a a device used to obtain the one dangerous object in the room. 007 ain't got nothing on the Moose.
Ignore your dirty couch and nothing happens to it. Wash your couch cushions and within the hour they will be either peed on, become the next Picasso painting in highlighter hues, or torn apart for the sole purpose of toddler couch surfing.
(picture crowd surfing, only with a toddler teetering on the edge of the couch, launching him self up and out several feet with the hopes that the pile of cushions he has assembled will break his fall ---- without breaking his arm)
He's only 2 1/2 folks..... come the teenaged years I'll be in a nice padded room with CLEAN white walls.....
Why is it that when you need to get a hold of a person they don't respond. But the minute you give up and do the project yourself they call right in the middle of it?
Binkies are harder to get rid of than cockroaches. My son has this uncannny ability to pull a binky out of thin air better than a dog can lick his own beans. You don't know how they do it, but they do.
Why is it when you get a spark of creative genius (aka come up with a great new pattern for Moose Threads) all your free time gets tied up worse than a dominatrix in a duct tape dibacle.
Whoever said that "it's all worth it in the end" is the person who does about as much work as a babboon scratching his butt.
Why is it that a basket of folded laundry is much more appealing to a toddler than a basket of unfolded laundry?
Leave the kid alone for two seconds and he can unfold, scatter and destroy four loads of neatly folded clothing while somehow managing to turn the basket into a a device used to obtain the one dangerous object in the room. 007 ain't got nothing on the Moose.
Ignore your dirty couch and nothing happens to it. Wash your couch cushions and within the hour they will be either peed on, become the next Picasso painting in highlighter hues, or torn apart for the sole purpose of toddler couch surfing.
(picture crowd surfing, only with a toddler teetering on the edge of the couch, launching him self up and out several feet with the hopes that the pile of cushions he has assembled will break his fall ---- without breaking his arm)
He's only 2 1/2 folks..... come the teenaged years I'll be in a nice padded room with CLEAN white walls.....
Why is it that when you need to get a hold of a person they don't respond. But the minute you give up and do the project yourself they call right in the middle of it?
Binkies are harder to get rid of than cockroaches. My son has this uncannny ability to pull a binky out of thin air better than a dog can lick his own beans. You don't know how they do it, but they do.
Why is it when you get a spark of creative genius (aka come up with a great new pattern for Moose Threads) all your free time gets tied up worse than a dominatrix in a duct tape dibacle.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Moose MADNESS!!!
People should be thankful I'm a writer.
Why?
Because when I'm really really pissed I choose to usually write about it rather than start something in public. My mom just raised me with too many manners....
Here are the few things that make me REALLY mad - they kind that burns a scar into my brain where a once favorable impression of something once was.
1. If you attack my child verbally or physically.
2. If you attack any member of my family verbally or physically.
3. If you go after something I worked hard for.
In the past few months I've dealt with all three of these situations.
I've had my 2 1/2 year old child called a bully
I've had people close to me bad mouthed by other people I thought were close to me.
And just recently I've had someone blatently say they were stealing one of my Moose Threads designs.
Yep, you read that correctly.
This person posted a pic of one of my skorts, noted how beautiful it was and the proceeded to state that they were going to make it for thier "daughter".
IN A PUBLIC CHAT ROOM
This lady was more bold than Rosie O'Donnell sporting a string bikini in a wind storm.
First off lady....
That's great you find inspiration in my work, but don't come out and tell me to my face that you are just going to steal the design.
Secondly...
If you like it so much just buy it.
Third.....
You sell items in the same genre. I'm not stupid.
At first when I read that I thought my boiling anger was a result of having PMS without an accessible chocolate source nearby. When I have a chocolate craving I'm like Janice Dickenson looking for a shot of Botox. I need my fix or else I'll start to fall apart.
But then... after scarfing down a bowl of Coco Puffs.... the blood and sugar began to return to my brain.
I started to think I was overreacting. I started to wonder if my eyes has deceived me, that in fact I didn't read what I thought I did.
But after I checked with a few of my fellow Homefronters they confirmed I wasn't nuttier than a bunch of drag queens in a thong competition.
It just goes to show you that you never know what type of characters you'll meet in life....
Why?
Because when I'm really really pissed I choose to usually write about it rather than start something in public. My mom just raised me with too many manners....
Here are the few things that make me REALLY mad - they kind that burns a scar into my brain where a once favorable impression of something once was.
1. If you attack my child verbally or physically.
2. If you attack any member of my family verbally or physically.
3. If you go after something I worked hard for.
In the past few months I've dealt with all three of these situations.
I've had my 2 1/2 year old child called a bully
I've had people close to me bad mouthed by other people I thought were close to me.
And just recently I've had someone blatently say they were stealing one of my Moose Threads designs.
Yep, you read that correctly.
This person posted a pic of one of my skorts, noted how beautiful it was and the proceeded to state that they were going to make it for thier "daughter".
IN A PUBLIC CHAT ROOM
This lady was more bold than Rosie O'Donnell sporting a string bikini in a wind storm.
First off lady....
That's great you find inspiration in my work, but don't come out and tell me to my face that you are just going to steal the design.
Secondly...
If you like it so much just buy it.
Third.....
You sell items in the same genre. I'm not stupid.
At first when I read that I thought my boiling anger was a result of having PMS without an accessible chocolate source nearby. When I have a chocolate craving I'm like Janice Dickenson looking for a shot of Botox. I need my fix or else I'll start to fall apart.
But then... after scarfing down a bowl of Coco Puffs.... the blood and sugar began to return to my brain.
I started to think I was overreacting. I started to wonder if my eyes has deceived me, that in fact I didn't read what I thought I did.
But after I checked with a few of my fellow Homefronters they confirmed I wasn't nuttier than a bunch of drag queens in a thong competition.
It just goes to show you that you never know what type of characters you'll meet in life....
Moose Musings
It's time for another random list of things that plague my mind.....
Mexican food and two-year-olds don't mix.
Not only does David go nuts and try to cram chips into the salsa bowl faster than a chubby kid eating cheetos, he only likes one thing.
Chicken.
He loves loves loves the marinated chicken that goes inside all the items that call for it. I've finally learned to just order him some on the side instead of participating in the tortilla frisbee Olympics.
The only problem is, this type of chicken causes my son to have more gas than the Hindenburg.
The rest of the day the poor kid sounded like I shoved bubble wrap up his ass.
Now that I've fully entered the toddler wars I've decided who I want to be my general.
My friend Jessica is amazing. Not only did this woman manage to wade through JoAnn's fabrics with me on a day when it was more crowded than Pamela Anderson's bra cups, she did so with two toddlers in tow.
Imagine David times two.
Yep, she is super woman. Not once did she have to raise her voice, threaten bodily harm or drag them out of the store. Instead, she showed me what type of mom I would like to be - especially in public.
Daddy adoration is cute at first when you have a toddler. But when that adoration turns into "cant-sleep-unless-I'm -snuggling-with-daddy-in-mommy-and-daddy's-bed" it becomes more annoying than Jessica Simpson.
The past few nights David has been unable to go to sleep unless he is snuggled up on his daddy. Unfortunatly, this means mommy has been banished to a tiny sliver of bed, that my my pinkie toe barely fits on, much less my ginormous tush.
I woke up this morning unable to feel my arms (since I was sleeping on them) and needing to pee like a racehorse whose weiner's been taped to his leg.
I swear my husband must have thought I was having a seizure as I sat there trying to get my pants off to do my business.
Mexican food and two-year-olds don't mix.
Not only does David go nuts and try to cram chips into the salsa bowl faster than a chubby kid eating cheetos, he only likes one thing.
Chicken.
He loves loves loves the marinated chicken that goes inside all the items that call for it. I've finally learned to just order him some on the side instead of participating in the tortilla frisbee Olympics.
The only problem is, this type of chicken causes my son to have more gas than the Hindenburg.
The rest of the day the poor kid sounded like I shoved bubble wrap up his ass.
Now that I've fully entered the toddler wars I've decided who I want to be my general.
My friend Jessica is amazing. Not only did this woman manage to wade through JoAnn's fabrics with me on a day when it was more crowded than Pamela Anderson's bra cups, she did so with two toddlers in tow.
Imagine David times two.
Yep, she is super woman. Not once did she have to raise her voice, threaten bodily harm or drag them out of the store. Instead, she showed me what type of mom I would like to be - especially in public.
Daddy adoration is cute at first when you have a toddler. But when that adoration turns into "cant-sleep-unless-I'm -snuggling-with-daddy-in-mommy-and-daddy's-bed" it becomes more annoying than Jessica Simpson.
The past few nights David has been unable to go to sleep unless he is snuggled up on his daddy. Unfortunatly, this means mommy has been banished to a tiny sliver of bed, that my my pinkie toe barely fits on, much less my ginormous tush.
I woke up this morning unable to feel my arms (since I was sleeping on them) and needing to pee like a racehorse whose weiner's been taped to his leg.
I swear my husband must have thought I was having a seizure as I sat there trying to get my pants off to do my business.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
They all filter through
If there is one thing I have noticed during the past few months of this emotional roller coaster ride, it is that true friends float to the surface during times of turmoil, while others just sink, never to be heard from again.
I am by no means perfect or easy to deal with in general - especially right now.
When you look at the past two years of my life, mentally I have dealt with more drama than an episode of 90210.
I'm tired of rearranging my life for other people because "it's the right thing to do."
I'm tired of listening and supporting other people, only to not have the sentiment returned.
I'm tired of holding in my feelings.
I'm tired being dammed for holding those feeling in and then dammed for letting those feelings out.
All in all I'm just plain tired.
Thankfully what has kept me going recently have been little things.
A phone call from a person I admire and respect. Someone who I feel really listens to me instead of pumps me for gossip.
A playdate with another person who always knows how to make me feel normal and squash my fears of being a bad parent.
A lunch date with an amazing person who not only gets me, but truly makes me feel better about myself.
An e-mail from a person who understands my craving for yarn and my passion for finding a balance between sanity and social acceptance.
And then of course there were the unexpected get-togethers with the one person who gets my situation - being a submariner's wife. This person I can not only talk to, but can depend on for a swift kick in my expanding rear when times get tough.
These things are what made me realize that I don't need to be part of a "social" posse" that can rival Mariah Carey's makeup crew. Instead, all I need are a small group of friends I can connect with in whatever way we choose.
Friendship is about being there for someone, not being with someone.
Now if only I can remember to remind myself of that when times get tough....
I am by no means perfect or easy to deal with in general - especially right now.
When you look at the past two years of my life, mentally I have dealt with more drama than an episode of 90210.
I'm tired of rearranging my life for other people because "it's the right thing to do."
I'm tired of listening and supporting other people, only to not have the sentiment returned.
I'm tired of holding in my feelings.
I'm tired being dammed for holding those feeling in and then dammed for letting those feelings out.
All in all I'm just plain tired.
Thankfully what has kept me going recently have been little things.
A phone call from a person I admire and respect. Someone who I feel really listens to me instead of pumps me for gossip.
A playdate with another person who always knows how to make me feel normal and squash my fears of being a bad parent.
A lunch date with an amazing person who not only gets me, but truly makes me feel better about myself.
An e-mail from a person who understands my craving for yarn and my passion for finding a balance between sanity and social acceptance.
And then of course there were the unexpected get-togethers with the one person who gets my situation - being a submariner's wife. This person I can not only talk to, but can depend on for a swift kick in my expanding rear when times get tough.
These things are what made me realize that I don't need to be part of a "social" posse" that can rival Mariah Carey's makeup crew. Instead, all I need are a small group of friends I can connect with in whatever way we choose.
Friendship is about being there for someone, not being with someone.
Now if only I can remember to remind myself of that when times get tough....
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Spinning around and around....
It's a wonder how I made it through school with honors because I have not been doing very well with my therapy homework this week.
My homework was to try and write everyday..... and almost a week later and I've written squat.
Oh trust me I've had PLENTY to write about. I just haven't found the time or had the brain power to do so.
Over the last two weeks I have had a lot of high and low points in terms of my self-esteem and my overall opinion of myself as a mother. I've second-guessed my tiny desire to have a second child, questioned my commitment to losing weight, and contemplated saying goodbye to Moose Threads.
For those of you that know me the last one was my wake-up call.
For me to want to give up on Moose Threads is like Dolly Parton going in for a breast reduction - somethings not right if you want to say goodbye to the one thing you're known for.
Nothing bad happened to make me feel this way. In fact, I had one of the BEST weeks I've ever had with Moose Threads. Three custom hat orders, a sold applique, two applique inquiries had put me on cloud nine.
It was everything else in my life that was made that cloud evaporate. When I'm stressed the last thing I want to do is crochet and be creative and when your business thrives on that it's not good.
Robert is in what we term refit hell right now at work. It's that lovely month-long turnover period on the sub where long hours are rampant and days off are nonexistent. This in turn has caused a domino effect in our household.
Long hours and no days off = daddy not being home = daddy-obsessed toddler acting out = stressed out mom = rude people = low self esteem and confidence.
Let me break it down for you.
David's finally at an age where he KNOWS when daddy is gone. He KNOWS when he wants daddy and he WILL act out if I can't suddenly produce him like P. Diddy produces bad albums.
This in turn has resulted in my child showing his stubborn streak in the worst way - IN PUBLIC.
During a get-together with his future preschool class, David threw a temper tantrum better than Mariah Carey backstage at the MTV movie awards. He was throwing things, rolling on the floor, pointing, yelling NO! and STOP! When he got into a tiff over a toy and pushed another child I about died.
Where did my cute baby go?
Fast forward a week to yesterday. There we are sitting in one of our favorite coffee places. I think we visit them two to three times a week. Why? Because they have always been kid friendly.
Well.... someone should have told the owner (who is never there) she's viewed as kid-friendly. There I was sitting a a table with a few other moms and their kids. David is in his stroller. He belts out what I deem a "dino roar" I address the problem and he calms down. Five minutes later..... ROAR.
And then it happened.
Faster than Lindsey Lohan on a first date the owner was right next to me and in my face. With her nose just inches from mine she told me that I need to calm my kid down and perhaps leave because she had people working there and he was a distraction.
I was mortified. The place was packed. People were either on computers, cell phones, chatting loudly. Blenders were going. And I was kicked out of a place I've been a steady customer at for a dino ROAR.
I then went next door to perhaps calm myself down with a little yarn therapy.
Forget it. David was not interested in sitting in the stroller. Instead he was throwing a fit because he wanted to push the stroller himself. I then again found myself in a situation where my parenting skills were questioned and a backhanded comment was "mentioned" regarding toddler discipline. Let's just say I didn't stay long enough to take part in that discussion.
If I had I think I would have cried worse than Perez Hilton after a computer crash.
I don't know what's worse, comments made directly to you, or comments made "at" you by way of "topic discussion"
Our day continued with a successful trip to Ms. Liz for a big-boy haircut, but it was only the eye of the storm.
Not even 10 minutes after the haircut I found myself dragging David out of UPS, Moose Threads orders still in hand, because he was not only talking back, but kicking screaming and just downright being defiant.
I promptly got in my car, drove him home and proceeded to just cry. How the heck could I even think about having another child when I couldn't even control the one I did have? How did I become one of THOSE parents. The ones that people smirk at in stores and think "my child would never do that" or "her brat is so spoiled etc."
I've even had someone say once "It's called a spanking lady."
Umm yeah. Live with my child for a while and you'll soon learn that he is very much his father's little boy.
According to my mother in law, Robert was not only curious, strong, indignant and fearless, he also was impossible to dicipline normally.
Timeouts he used to plot his next attack. Spankings he laughed at. If you took a toy away he found some other way to have fun....
Now I know why she said she cried almost her entire pregnancy with my brother-in-law. She was terrified. She could barely handle one Robert, much less another version.
How my husband grew up to be a very well-mannered adult I will never know.
I think call to his mom may be in order....
My homework was to try and write everyday..... and almost a week later and I've written squat.
Oh trust me I've had PLENTY to write about. I just haven't found the time or had the brain power to do so.
Over the last two weeks I have had a lot of high and low points in terms of my self-esteem and my overall opinion of myself as a mother. I've second-guessed my tiny desire to have a second child, questioned my commitment to losing weight, and contemplated saying goodbye to Moose Threads.
For those of you that know me the last one was my wake-up call.
For me to want to give up on Moose Threads is like Dolly Parton going in for a breast reduction - somethings not right if you want to say goodbye to the one thing you're known for.
Nothing bad happened to make me feel this way. In fact, I had one of the BEST weeks I've ever had with Moose Threads. Three custom hat orders, a sold applique, two applique inquiries had put me on cloud nine.
It was everything else in my life that was made that cloud evaporate. When I'm stressed the last thing I want to do is crochet and be creative and when your business thrives on that it's not good.
Robert is in what we term refit hell right now at work. It's that lovely month-long turnover period on the sub where long hours are rampant and days off are nonexistent. This in turn has caused a domino effect in our household.
Long hours and no days off = daddy not being home = daddy-obsessed toddler acting out = stressed out mom = rude people = low self esteem and confidence.
Let me break it down for you.
David's finally at an age where he KNOWS when daddy is gone. He KNOWS when he wants daddy and he WILL act out if I can't suddenly produce him like P. Diddy produces bad albums.
This in turn has resulted in my child showing his stubborn streak in the worst way - IN PUBLIC.
During a get-together with his future preschool class, David threw a temper tantrum better than Mariah Carey backstage at the MTV movie awards. He was throwing things, rolling on the floor, pointing, yelling NO! and STOP! When he got into a tiff over a toy and pushed another child I about died.
Where did my cute baby go?
Fast forward a week to yesterday. There we are sitting in one of our favorite coffee places. I think we visit them two to three times a week. Why? Because they have always been kid friendly.
Well.... someone should have told the owner (who is never there) she's viewed as kid-friendly. There I was sitting a a table with a few other moms and their kids. David is in his stroller. He belts out what I deem a "dino roar" I address the problem and he calms down. Five minutes later..... ROAR.
And then it happened.
Faster than Lindsey Lohan on a first date the owner was right next to me and in my face. With her nose just inches from mine she told me that I need to calm my kid down and perhaps leave because she had people working there and he was a distraction.
I was mortified. The place was packed. People were either on computers, cell phones, chatting loudly. Blenders were going. And I was kicked out of a place I've been a steady customer at for a dino ROAR.
I then went next door to perhaps calm myself down with a little yarn therapy.
Forget it. David was not interested in sitting in the stroller. Instead he was throwing a fit because he wanted to push the stroller himself. I then again found myself in a situation where my parenting skills were questioned and a backhanded comment was "mentioned" regarding toddler discipline. Let's just say I didn't stay long enough to take part in that discussion.
If I had I think I would have cried worse than Perez Hilton after a computer crash.
I don't know what's worse, comments made directly to you, or comments made "at" you by way of "topic discussion"
Our day continued with a successful trip to Ms. Liz for a big-boy haircut, but it was only the eye of the storm.
Not even 10 minutes after the haircut I found myself dragging David out of UPS, Moose Threads orders still in hand, because he was not only talking back, but kicking screaming and just downright being defiant.
I promptly got in my car, drove him home and proceeded to just cry. How the heck could I even think about having another child when I couldn't even control the one I did have? How did I become one of THOSE parents. The ones that people smirk at in stores and think "my child would never do that" or "her brat is so spoiled etc."
I've even had someone say once "It's called a spanking lady."
Umm yeah. Live with my child for a while and you'll soon learn that he is very much his father's little boy.
According to my mother in law, Robert was not only curious, strong, indignant and fearless, he also was impossible to dicipline normally.
Timeouts he used to plot his next attack. Spankings he laughed at. If you took a toy away he found some other way to have fun....
Now I know why she said she cried almost her entire pregnancy with my brother-in-law. She was terrified. She could barely handle one Robert, much less another version.
How my husband grew up to be a very well-mannered adult I will never know.
I think call to his mom may be in order....
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