Motherhood Uncensored

Desperate Times Call For Desperate Measures

I'm still sort of reeling from the whole 204 discovery.

I know. I'm tall. I don't look like I weigh that much.

Whatever.

And to make it worse, the midwife not only asked my "starting" weight (because DAMN GIRL you're 204 already... or at least I know that's what she was thinking) and asked about exercise.

HA.

HAHAHA.

HAHAHAHAHA.

I was like "chasing after a two-year-old and lifting a fork to my mouth and back down again. Does that count?"

That's awful. I love exercise. Or at least, I'm one who tries to do it. I worked out up until the day before I delivered Quinlan and I do think it helped me throughout the pregnancy and during delivery.

However... I'm tired. I'm alone. I've got a two-year-old. And I haven't done diddly - save the every-other-day walks to the part and back, and the ONE yoga class.

But I'm determined to at least get my heart rate up and move my butt more than from couch to chair to floor. So, I've enlisted the assistance of Jenny (of Big Slice, Mommybloggers, and Three Kid Circus). I begged her to talk about some low impact stuff as well as some things I can do with my toddler present. Lord knows I can barely get 10 minutes to shower alone, so asking them (aka the INLAWS) to watch her while I go work out might not be the best option).

Anyway, she's offered up some great low impact workouts that I might just have to try. And if you're in the same boat as me (don't worry, I won't tell anyone), or you want to kick start your exercise routine with something that won't send you to the ER, then go visit her and see what she has to say.

And make sure to check out her place. She's got some great exercise/weight loss/plain old funny stuff that you might enjoy reading on more than just a random Friday night when you have nothing better to do.

And if you have any ideas for me, you know exercise that involves a bit more than lifting a fork to my mouth or carrying a toddler up the stairs, let me know. I'm ALL EARS.

PS. If you're looking for Halloween stuff, here's a few posts that I did last week.

I Decided to Dress up Like a 204lb Pregnant Woman

Oh whoops. I already am one.

Damnit.

Thank god for candy.

And automatic self-driving grocery carts.

And bikini waxers.

And tub rails.

And seatbelt extenders.

And laceless shoes.

And Preparation H Medicated Wet Wipes.

And dildos.

Anything else I didn't think of?

Happy Halloween, people.

All By Myself

It's weird being without my daughter.

I mean. I enjoy time to myself. And I rarely worry. Except lately with the in-laws, (read here if you don't know what I'm talking about), my anxiety has gone up a bit. Okay. A LOT - which really sucks since a) I don't need any more stress or anxiety, b) I do like to be able to go to dr's appointments and other things without having to bring my toddler along, and c) I don't need any more freaking anxiety!

I guess it's really because since moving in with the in-laws I feel like we're even more connected than we were before. Even with the things my husband does and does not do, we were always "three" and it was just us. But now, it's like it's me and my daughter living in a foreign country where you have to forcefully refuse more gravy even though you've already said it 10 times and apparently cashmere is machine washable.

Don't get me started on that one.

So, when we're apart, it's like I'm missing my little partner.

Don't worry. I'm not going to get all attached/enmeshed on you. But I will say that seeing her smiling face and hearing her cheery voice, even at 5am, is a comfort when everything seems to be so discombobulated and out-of-whack.

And sadly, this is only the beginning of that. From what I can tell, I'll be living in the state of "out-of-whack" for the next year.

So, in some odd way, she's my steady rock. In her inconsistencies as a 2-year-old, she is consistent. And we need each other.

But dang. I love NYC!

Don't Ask, Don't Tell

I grew up in the household where no one talked about sex for fear that the Lord would come down, strike you dead, and send you straight to hell.

Seriously. I think I saw my dad naked. Once. And quite frankly, if you had showed me a sausage and a dick, I probably would not have been able to tell the difference.

And balls? Nope. Didn't even really know they existed. (Not such a bad thing though, now that I think about it).

Until I was about 15 I thought babies were made by sleeping in the same bed with someone. And that oral sex was when you talked about it. And my period? I never told my mom. I just bought pads with my allowance until my friend showed me how to use tampons.

And then I bought them myself too.

Thanks to religion I was fairly sexually repressed until college, and then thanks to a bit of anxiety and a decent level of control freakedness, I kept my special parts in my pants. But not because I didn't want to, but because I had never had an orgasm during sex and so it really wasn't the greatest thing in the world. I'd rather just make-out all night and get oral sex.

Sigh. Not much has changed I suppose.

Since then, I decided I would be the one to talk to my kids about sex, and body parts, and menstruation and masturbation and whatever else they wanted to know. Prostitution? Porn? Easy. Got it covered.

But what I realize now is those aren't the only things. In fact, those are minor compared to those little (or really big) intracacies that go along with being a sexual human, particularly a female one.

Self-respect. Modesty. Intimacy. Self-worth. Loving your body. Sexism. Objectification of women.

Those are the topics that don't come readily available in textbooks. Those are the issues that are discussed within a parent/child relationship that I believe, at some level, cannot be forced or coached or dare I say prepared for - particularly when you're dealing with a society that is still male dominated and strongly focused on outer beauty and pleasing others.

What then do I tell my daughter who wants to look cute for the boys at school? Or doesn't want me to see her naked anymore. Or wants to wear make-up to cover up her birthmark so kids won't make fun of her? Or hates her thighs? Or wants to wear ridiculously provocative clothing because everyone else is doing it?

What then?

Fishy Girl asked the same thing, thanks to some situations at her daughter's school. Perhaps you can offer some insight for her. Or further the discussion for all of us.

Because this is the stuff that matters. Foreskin or not, vaccinations or not, breastfeeding or not, co-sleeping or not, this is the shit about parenting that really matters.

Subtle Enough? Now with Updates

So, I got home, my MIL was on the phone (Dr. Phil blasting), and my daughter was nowhere to be found. Seriously. She was upstairs in a bedroom petting the cats - I found her after my MIL went yelling for her around the big house with no child proofing and a toddler with a penchant for climbing.

"But she was just right here," she said.

I think it's a good decision she's staying with MY mom this weekend when I hit the Big Apple, don't you agree?