I admit it

I don't fight fair. I never have. I have a knack for finding a person's weakest point, and I strike it at just the right time. I don't know why.

Actually, I do, but there's no point in re-hashing old stuff.

Suffice to say that today I've been a total bitch. I sometimes wonder how long it will take before he's had enough of my shit and decides to take off.

Enough guilting myself. Let's analyze what's got me into this mood in the first place.

I'm sick. Jonas is sick. We've both got some sort of nasty upper respiratory thing. I'm a big girl, I can handle it, but it kills me to watch Jonas wheeze and cough. Hasn't he been through enough in his short little life? Everytime he sneezes, or runs a fever, I get all worked up, positive that we'll end up back in the hospital again. I'm sure every mother worries unnecessarily about their child, but hell, my son has been through enough torture at the hands of the medical profession. I can't stand the thought of more.

This is my last weekend before I go back to working full time. I can't begin to tell you how much this has me tied in knots. I feel bad enough with Jonas spending three long days at daycare. Now I have to mentally prepare myself for four or five of them?! It's just not right. I went back to this job simply because I COULD work part time, and now they're screwing me over. It's either quit, or do what they insist. I don't have many options.

I have been applying for new jobs, but there are very few places that want part time anythings. And I'm willing to be an anything. Dishwasher, cashier, waitress, receptionist, whatever. I got my first rejection yesterday. Just the standard form letter. Thanks for applying, someone else is more qualified, try again later.

I've been in such denial about having to return to full time that I haven't even lined up daycare for the extra days. Sure, he can go to Bonnie's on Thursday's too, but that makes his tuition jump from $65 a week to $110. Ummm... do the math. That means I'll be working the extra day for free! I don't think so.

I could leave him with Wil's parents, but I don't trust them. That sounds horrible, I know, but it's the truth. How can you trust someone to watch your baby when they don't even speak english? They can't even understand feeding instructions. I don't need that kind of stress. I'd spend the entire day at work worried about what might be wrong.

My parents travel too much to be reliable, so they're out. My sister works, so she's out.

Heidi offered, but it doesn't seem fair, considering she works Wednesday nights at the hospital. She'd get out of work, then have to come over to spend 12 hours with Jonas with no sleep. And he's not an easy baby. He doesn't really even nap anymore, so she'd get no break.

So what's a mom to do?

And that's my problem today. I'm just frustrated. I'm tired of being pulled in a thousand different directions, and I'm tired of feeling like I'm doing it alone.

Sure, Wil works long hours. I understand and appreciate that. But when he's home, he's not really here. He barely even looks at his son, and I can't remember the last time we had any sort of conversation. He doesn't lift a finger around the house. Laundry, bathrooms, floors, litter boxes, dog walking, dish washing... forget it. If he puts his own clothes into the hamper it's an act of God.

So, after waking up this morning, feeding the baby, walking the dog, cleaning both bathrooms, doing the litter box and putting away the third load of laundry while he sat around in his boxers, I blew it. And I wasn't very fair.

But I don't understand how he can expect me to be a full time mom, a full time housekeeper, AND work full time. There's just not enough time in the day. What it really all boils down to is that I want to quit my job. I want to be a stay at home mommy. I wouldn't be too tired to play with my son. I wouldn't be the zombie that I have become.

But this wasn't meant to find it's way into my blog. Who wants to read about my personal problems. Especially when they sound so... whiny. Poor me. I've got a baby and a job and a house and a husband and I don't have time for them all. How many people out there have REAL problems?

Hooray Steve-o!

My nephew, Steven presented me with a paper brought home from school the other day. It informed me that his story, "J-bomb and the Seasnakes", had won first place for the entire k-2 section of the competition. He's being honored in an awards ceremony, and is being sent to Viera to present his book to the school board in a week or so.

I'm so proud of him that it brings tears to my eyes. There's never been a doubt in my mind that he's the smartest damn kid in the world, but now the rest of the world knows it, too. And on top of that, I feel especially proud because it's the first school project that he's ever come to me for help with.

Hopefully his success with this will inspire him to write more often. Nothing would please me more than to see him to grow up a writer, just like I always wanted to be. Maybe there will be one shining star in this family, eh? I don't mind a bit living vicariously through his words. :)

They're off

They set out for Memphis this morning, the rising sun nipping at their heels like an anxious old dog.
And just like that, they’re gone.

We never see enough of each other. I don't know if there's such thing as enough.

Last night I felt poetic, driving home with my son sleeping soundly in the back seat.
The power lines cut geometric grids into the darkness, and I couldn’t help but notice their structure, their purpose. I wish I had a purpose, or even some sort of structure on which to build my being.

And that’s why I envy him so much; as long as I can remember he’s always had a plan, a determination, a drive to achieve that which he wants. Strange how siblings can be such polar opposites.

But is it really a bad thing to spend your life drifting like a dandelion puff on a summer breeze? Sometimes I’m not so sure.



I applied for a few new jobs yesterday. I'm just about desperate enough to do anything, as long as it means I can be home with my son more often. I just can't swallow the idea of working 12 hours a day four days a week, plus half days on Saturdays. That means I drop Jonas off at daycare before he's even awake, and I have just enough time in the evening to bathe him, feed him, and kiss him goodnight. I can't do it. I'd rather be broke and give up the very few luxuries we have. And I don't mind peanut butter sandwiches or ramen noodles all that much.

Last night we had a going away feast. It's so hard to be on a diet around my family. We had snow crab legs and steamed mussels in a white wine sauce. YUM! And while neither of those are really fattening foods, you have to take into account all the butter you dip them in, etc.

As of the last weigh in, I'm still doing ok, although I seem to have reached some sort of plateau (probably due to my weak will-power and the visiting family.

Here are the latest numbers:

Weight: 170.5 lbs.
Bust: 39"
Waist: 35.5"
Hips: 41"

I've got to get back into the habit of eating healthy stuff again. Sure, the occasional french fry isn't going to hurt me, but I don't have the will-power yet to deny the entire plate of them. So, until I can do that, it's no junk for me. I've found that going cold turkey on the junk food is easier to do than trying to cut back.

And so, for lunch today: A salad of romaine with tomato, cucumber, onion and a tablespoon of tuna. I'm not a big fan of salad dressing, which is a good thing, since regular dressing is fattening and the fat free stuff tastes terrible. But, if I do decide to have a little, I've got some I made with low fat mayo. Sort of a compromise between the two extremes. You need a little fat in your diet, don't you?

The worst part is, I look in the mirror, or at pictures, and I still see myself as a fatass, even though I've lost about 17 lbs. Sure, there's a difference, but I'm still not satisfied with the way I look. I wonder if I ever will be.

The Truth Is

You just can't eat healthy when you're on vacation. In my family vacation equates to eating... eating lots and lots of stuff, and none of it is ever healthy. I tried to stay faithful to my diet. I even ate oatmeal for breakfast and fresh fruit instead of the sausage and biscuits and gravy and eggs, but that hardly made up for the mounds of crap that I consumed at the theme parks.
Chicken strips
French Fries
Pizza
Cookies
Caramel Apples

Ugh...

But you only get so many chances to take your kid to Disney, you know, and in the grand scheme of things, a diet doesn't seem all that important. I'll catch up again this week.

So, the current weights and measures are:

Weight: 172 (up two pounds)
Bust: 39"
Waist: 36"
Hips: 43"

Is it possible to gain two pounds and three inches in a weekend? Apparently so.

My Son

I hope that, just for today, I have made your world as magical as you make mine.

Today

I woke up like a raging bull this morning. It must be a hormonal thing because I went to bed in a fine mood. Sometimes it seems like everything and everyone is out to make your day difficult. That person/thing is usually my husband.

I won't sit here and bash on the poor guy. He got enough of that before leaving for work this morning, but I wish that, just once, he'd take the time to realize and maybe even be grateful for everything that I do. I don't know, maybe I'm just craving a little pampering, some recognition for all of the work and all of the sacrifices.

Jeez, I don't want to turn this into a lonely housewives confessional.

Today I'm just working around the house and ignoring all of the important things that I'm supposed to be doing. We haven't had a roof since August, what's another couple of weeks, right? I mean, hell, if I wait long enough, it'll be hurricane season again and maybe this year the rest of the house will go, too.

Nope, not shingle shopping today. Just doing laundry and floors and packing. Yes, packing. Jonas and I are going to Disney tomorrow. Yippie! Of course, Wil can't find to time to come with us. I guess he doesn't see the importance of sharing these moments with his son. I know that ten years from now, when I look back at the pictures, I'm still going to feel a little miffed about the missing part of the equation.

"Look J-man, there's you and Mickey Mouse, and Goofy, and Mommy."
"Where's Daddy, Mommy?"
"Oh, Daddy? He decided not to go with us on that trip honey, but look at the good time we had together."


Arrg! Not going to ruin my mood. Not going to do it.

Last night, after work, and after picking Jonas up, and after coming home to walk and feed the dog, I went to the store to pick up some baby food and some formula. I got a little sidetracked and ended up going shopping for new jeans, too. Hey, can you blame me? My clothes are falling off me. I NEED at least one pair of pants that fit.

So I'm in the dressing room, various sizes and styles laid out before me, Jonas happily chewing on a hanger. I hate trying on clothes. It's always depressing and demoralizing. I've always envied skinny girls that look good in anything they buy. With my size, and the way I'm built, it takes a miracle to find something that fits me properly.

I've picked out one pair of jeans that I'm saving until last to try on. They're a size 12.

Yeah right, Ang, you haven't worn a 12 since jr. high.

But still, I've been doing good on my diet. I can at least try them on, right?

Sure, go ahead, but don't come crying to me when you can't get them up over your ass.

So I slowly take them off the hanger. One leg in... doesn't feel bad. Other leg in... hey, I think they might fit! Up over the thighs... oh my god! There going to fit! Hips-- check. Waist, buttoned, zipped. Holy Shit! They're on, they fit! I'm a size 12!

Ok, so I didn't really have the money to be buying clothes last night. I even felt a little guilty since I was SUPPOSED to be buying baby food. But can you honestly leave behind a pair of jeans that make you feel like one of those Oprah Winfrey success stories? Hell no.

Just for the record, I did buy the baby food, too. I'm not THAT self absorbed.

Current weight: 170 (fully dressed with a pocket full of stuff. :)
Bust: 38"
Waist: 35"
Hips: 42"

Looks like the weight finally caught up with the inches this week.

That's a total loss of about 18 lbs and about 6 or 7 inches. Not bad.

I'm half-way to my goal, and feeling very good about it. Now let's see if I can keep myself from ruining it with all the theme park junk food.

Randomness

My brother and his family finally arrived from Oregon. It's been fun seeing them again, and I can't believe how much Aaron has grown! He's such a smart baby, too.

It was really cute last night. We were all sitting around on the back porch, and Kelly, my parent's dog, ran out through her doggie door. Aaron, never having seen a doggie door before, had to explore this cool new contraption.

After a while, Kelly came back onto the porch, but Aaron was still figuring out how this thing worked, so he was pulling the flaps to the side and sticking an arm or a leg through. Finally he got brave enough to step totally out through it, and squealed with delight at the fact that he was "owside." About that time Kelly decided she needed to go bark at the dog next door and went charging for the door. Just as she was about to leap through, Aaron pulled the flaps open and burst through. Poor Kelly was totally freaked out! She ducked down, tucked her tail and ran to hide behind Dad. I guess the thought never occured to her that someone or something else could come through her door.

So it's Saturday today, and for the first time in a month, I don't have to work. Of course, Wil is on call, and has 45 deliveries, so I probably won't see him the rest of the day. That's ok though. Me and Jonas are going to go and have a mommy/baby day. It's beautiful out today. The high is going to be about 74. Beautiful weather for a stroll around the park. I'm also going to go to the fabric store and splurge a little. I've got a really cute quilt pattern and I'm determined to make one for each of the kids before Christmas. Any of you who know me, know that I am the worlds worst procrastinator. If I don't start now, I don't stand a chance.

I've been pretty good about sticking to my diet. I haven't been able to get as much exercise as I'd hoped to, but there are only so many hours in a day. By the time I get Jonas from daycare in the afternoons, get home, take the dog out, and start dinner, it's really too late. Besides, we live in an area where sidewalks are rare, and I don't feel safe walking with Jonas in his stroller along the side of the road. Can you blame me for being an over-protective mom? I also have a brand new bike. It's been ridden twice, and not even by me. But I can't exactly go out and ride and leave J-man here alone. So the bike has to wait for a weekend when Wil's home too.

But like I said, I've done pretty good with my dieting. I've given up all sweets, all greasy foods. I'm actually measuring out portions rather than heaping the food on. It's really not all that hard, once you start. It's those first few days when your body is craving all the junk that are the hardest. When I do have a sweet tooth, I reach for a bit of Steven's cereal instead of the chips ahoy. A figure a handfull of Cookie Crisp has got to be better for you than a couple of chocolate chip cookies, right?

So the numbers now are:

Bust: 38"
Waist: 35 1/2"
Hips: 41"

Weight: 174 (as of thursday)

I've only lost a pound according to the scale, but the measurements are what make me proud. I think that's a significant change in such a short time. Last night I wore one of my favorite pairs of pants and they actually fit me well! Yay!

Anyway, I've got to get me and J-man in the shower. Gotta get to the bank before one, and gotta get to the post office before 12. Car payment is due on the 19th!

So that I will stick with it

It's not easy to admit you're a fatass. Sure, you can look in the mirror every day and see the fat rolls and you can put on your plus-sized clothes and feel sorry for yourself, but it's hard to admit in public that you actually disgust yourself.

Ok, so that sounds harsh. But if the old cliche is right, I am my own worst critic. The only problem is, I lack the determination to do anything about it. Before I became pregnant I was heavy, but I didn't really consider myself fat. I fit into my favorite pair of jeans, I had a decent ass, and one could take my picture without risking bodily harm.

Now, eight months post-birth, I am still wearing some of my maternity clothes, simply because I don't stand a chance of fitting back into anything I wore prior.

I suppose I've always been sort of chunky, and I'm not looking to be super-model thin, but I do want to lose some of this weight. I want Jonas to look back at pictures of his childhood and not be embarrassed by the way I look.

Over the last month I've been making an effort to eat better. It's paid off. Already, I've dropped about 12 lbs. My clothes are starting to hang on me a bit more loosely. But 12 lbs is only the beginning.

Ok, the cold hard numbers.

Right now:

Height: 5'7"
Weight: 175 lbs. (eek)
Bust: 39"
Waist: 37 1/2"
Hips: 43"
Currently wearing a size 16 jean- a little too big, but no way am I squeezing into a 14 yet.

My goal is to get somewhere in the 150 range, and be able to fit into a size 12 and look good. I'm really more interested in the way I look than the size I am or what the scale says.

It's just depressing when you go shopping and none of the stores carry a size you can wear. Most of my wardrobe right now consists of oversized t-shirts and baggy jeans. I shop primarily in the men's section.

Maybe putting the cold hard numbers out here where the world can see them will keep me motivated to eat right and exercise.

Misfortune or Luck?

Tony and John have been clients at the clinic forever. They run a dachshund rescue. Yeah, go ahead and laugh, the irony of two gay men running around saving the weiners... it's funny. They're good people. They're extravagant and beautiful. John is the more conservative of the two. He's got the manly voice, wears your average manly clothes, drives your average manly car. Tony, on the other hand. He's boisterous, flamboyant, wears loud prints, always with the shirt unbuttoned to display his broad and hairy chest. He drives the little convertible Miata, vacations in places like Amsterdam, is quick to laugh. An overall loveable guy. Whether or not you approve of their lifestyle, you can't help but feel drawn to Tony.

John's got cancer. I've watched him whither over the past few years. Tony, he's got AIDS. Yeah, go ahead with the stereo-types. Whatever. He's dying. Lately both of them have been in and out of the hospital for one reason or another. It hurts to watch them slip slowly away like this. Every time they stop by they just seem a little more... hmmm... what's the word? Dim? The way stars seem to fade just before sunrise.

Wednesday night Tony was in a car wreck. The other car was a fault. Ran the red light, completely destroyed that little blue Miata. Tony survived, only to suffer cardiac arrest on the side of the road. He coded, they did CPR for 20 minutes. Although he's breathing again, he's completely unresponsive.

My first reaction was "How cruel can God be? As if their lives haven't been difficult enough!" But now I wonder, is this really just a way of giving him a break from the agony of a slow AIDS death? Perhaps this is the gentler way to go.

At least someone is getting published

My nephew, Steven, has joined an after-school writing program. How cool is that? Not just the fact that he's joined the program, but the fact that one exists at all?! I mean, really, he's only in kindergarten. When I was his age they were teaching us our alphabet, and not to eat paste.

I'm really excited for him. The program runs two weeks and it will focus on each child creating their own individual story and illustratiions. They will be typed, bound and then sent to a school-wide competition. Two winners from each grade will then be sent to the school board to compete with the other schools in the county.

I know that Steven has the ability to win this thing, hands down. He's, by far, the smartest 6 year old I've ever met. (And I'm not just saying that because he's my nephew) But I don't know how I feel about the school focusing on the cometition rather than simply creating something of quality that they can be proud of.

Maybe that's just my own non-confrontational insecurity talking, but I just think that so much in life is already about being better than everyone else. At six years old, shouldn't we be teaching our kids security and acceptance instead of teaching them that they have to win? If Steven doesn't win, will he be disappointed? Worse, will it turn him off of writing for the rest of his life?

Ok, so I'm being dramatic here. I just don't think that six year olds need everything to be about beating each other. Save that for middle school, or high school. For now, let's just encourage them and build their self esteem.

Or am I way out of line?

A Trip Across America

My brother, sister-in-law and little nephew will be here in a few weeks. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. They live out in Oregon, couldn't be any farther apart if we tried. So it's rare that we actually find a way to get together.

They're taking this amazing trip across the country in their plane. You can follow their progress by checking out their blog at Trip Across America

My parents have the weekend planned so that we'll be taking all of the kids to Orlando to do the whole Disney thing. Sure, Jonas is too young to remember any of it, but really, who knows when we'll ever have an opportunity to do this again? So here I am, $48 to my name and thousands of dollars worth of repairs needing to be done, and I'm already planning all the souvineers that we'll surely have to get. I mean, who goes to Disney and DOESN'T buy their kid a set of mouse ears? And all those pictures they take of you on the rides and at the gates, and being groped by some guy in a costume... you just HAVE to have those too, right? Geez, those Disney folks... marketing geniuses.

Seriously though, I can't wait for them to get here. My brother and his wife are the best parents I've ever met, and I guess in some ways, I idolize them. Just having them around helps me feel more confident about my own parenting abilities.

Speaking of which, Jonas is just about to turn himself upside down in his exersaucer in order to reach the toy he dropped. Gotta go.