Don’t even THINK about mentioning food to me.
May 10, 2010
There are fun things about being pregnant… but they don’t happen until you’re a bit further along than I am.
I’m only five weeks, guys.
Five weeks and though the morning sickness has not hit with a vengeance there are mornings like this one… Where I’m not sure if I’m going to vomit or cry, when nothing tastes or smells like it’s supposed to and where my ability to deal with people has gone totally down the drain.
I’m really. really. really. uncomfortable.
The rain outside has turned the entire city a dim sort of grey and I would love nothing more than a nap. A nap where my stomach and my boobs cannot move an inch.
Ah. The things that make me happy right now.
It’s how I spent much of my weekend.
And is not at all how I get to spend next weekend, when my husband will join me in the Memphis area and tell me that I need to move around more and nap less.
Right before I punch him in the face.
Actually, he’ll more than likely be 100% understanding, as he’s been great 99% of the time during my pregnancy so far (a whole 5 weeks in) and has even surprised me in some of his opinions on things…
But.
Because he did this to me.
And because I feel so icky.
I want to punch him in the face.
It’s nothing personal and I mean it with all of the love in my heart.
This is just… first trimester pregnancy talk.
My car karma
May 3, 2010
I hate Mr. Mike ________ so much.
When Dad has a point.
April 22, 2010
My dad mentioned last night that I’m more bitter than I have been in previous years.
That’s not really an easy thing to hear, especially when you’re a person who works so hard on shedding the bad mojo to move on happily with your life.
I know you can’t shrug off everything but the fact that it’s showing to outsiders tells me the problem is much more serious than I thought.
Granted, serious is a relative thing – I’m very happy and mostly well-adjusted even.
But the situation with my daughter and my husband has led me to a place of pain that doesn’t overwhelm so much as it always exists.
I didn’t realize being married would make such a difference to being apart and being caught in this mess of my own making.
But it does.
And I didn’t realize that being the parent of a teenager would cause me to long for a little bit of help – not because I can’t handle her or our life together, but because sometimes SHE deserves a person with a different perspective.
But she’s got me.
Nick can’t help from MN and Abbey’s father isn’t active when the going gets tough, so…
Yeah.
I get angry.
She deserves a male father figure in her life that loves her enough to put himself out for her.
And Ben doesn’t do it, and Nick doesn’t have the opportunity.
I blame myself for part of it.
And I’m angry for making such a bad male choice.
Of course… who makes good ones at 15?
Watching the people I love hurt is not something I’m good at.
I’m a mother.
Mothering takes up a good portion of my time and energy, whether it’s focused on my child or someone else.
It doesn’t turn off.
It doesn’t go away.
Being caught in a place that I can neither fix nor escape means that I feel like a failure.
I KNOW my daughter is better off with me.
With me she has the only chance of seeing everyone she loves as much as possible.
With me she has the chance of being able to grow up and make her own choices AND face the consequences.
There are punishments and rewards.
With me she has the only chance of being inspired to go after her dreams and motivations instead of being tempted to settle for what she can get to make others happy.
Sure, I’d love for her to choose the things I think are good for her, but even more than that, I’d love for her to choose the things that ARE good for her – and only by having that freedom and making good decisions and bad ones can you get to that special place.
I know I’m the only one that works hard on making sure her environment is as happy and conflict free as possible.
And even though that means right now that I can’t be as much fun as I would like to be – teenagers provide plenty of opportunities for discipline and restrictions of themselves – it also means that I am giving my all to parenting this wonderful child I was blessed with.
Not just seeing what I can get out of it.
Or angling for the most time.
Sometimes the best thing for her is for me to say no.
And sometimes the best thing for her is for me to push forward and change our reality.
I freeze in fear though. Sometimes.
And sometimes I am angry.
The three of us deserve better.
Yarnie Frustration
March 29, 2010
I’ve been knitting more – my one-time exuberantly overwhelming hobby. It’s still a hobby of sorts, just lacking the old urge to spend tons of money. I think that’s a good change, as I already have quite an interesting stash, for someone who doesn’t own a yarn room to store it in.
For now it sits lonely in my PODS storage unit, and I dutifully climb over the mounds of boxes and furniture to reach it when needed.
It’s quite an effort, actually, so I’ve made sure to only start projects that are well worth it.
There’s something rather calming about it 90% of the time. The urge to bounce and pace and vibrate in my seat slow down just a bit and I can accomplish something beautiful.
The other 10% are days like today.
Where I get excited about a new and somewhat difficult project, knit through 10 frustrating rows past the monotonous ribbing, only to realize that I’m knitting unevenly… having forgotten half of a row in the correct pattern and instead having skipped on to the next.
Yes. It’s Monday. Damnit.
I don’t want any of that Activia crap.
March 25, 2010
Weight Watchers is a double-edged sword.
It helps you make better decisions (hopefully).
It also allows you to have those things that you crave, although in a much smaller amount than your giant ass used to consume.
After visiting Dallas last weekend and indulging in some cookie cravings, it’s been much harder to count the points with healthier foods.
The cravings are larger and have animal-like sharp teeth that keep ripping at my insides when I catch a whiff of tater tot goodness or juicy cheeseburgers.
I’m not sure why this is the case, as I’ve been battling this particular set of demons for over a month now, but regardless, it is harder this week.
And I’m not hungry.
I’m getting enough (more than) food to keep my body satisfied.
It just contains vegetables.
Or even when it doesn’t it’s a smaller amount than I would like.
I eat two pieces of pizza – I’m full.
But I’d like to eat three because it’s so freaking delicious. I don’t. I fight it.
And then the next meal, I’d like an extra bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, not green beans and potatoes.
And don’t even forget the chocolate syrup to go with my milk.
Damnit.
The chocolate syrup, oh how it mocks me from the fridge.
Le sigh.
But I continue on.
Forging my battle with weapons of fiber and whole grains.
A rather flimsy shield against a french fry craving.
Still fiber and grains are good for me.
Or at least Jamie Lee Curtis tells me it is.
And I guess for today, that’s gotta be enough.
Sorry, sirs, but I’m all out of sour apple.
March 24, 2010
I’m all out of interesting.
It’s true.
They had a sale of interesting at Schnucks recently and sold out.
Okay.
So they really sold out of pita bread, but when you consider that it’s the highlight of my life, you can see why I’m not quite up to typing lately.
Is it the gorgeous weather keeping me from typing? No.
The blizzard Dallas threw at me last weekend? No.
Mostly it’s just this lack of anything interesting to say.
This week the nation has been bombarded with healthcare news and I find myself tuning out the folks that are blustering about it. Truth is that we can’t agree on everything, we aren’t going to agree on everything, but knowing people that just don’t have access to healthcare under the current system makes me scoff a bit at those that thing heading in this direction is a bad idea period.
That’s like saying clean water and non-pesticide-laden foods are a bad idea.
Truthfully our healthcare and insurance companies need overhaulin’. And since you can’t kidnap them and fix them up into a shiny Buick in a week, we’re stuck doing things the old-fashioned way.
We’re going to throw out 40 billion nets and hope one of the damned things catches a fish.
Some folks are upset about this. I get that. What I DON’T get is how many people are upset about this without actually reading/researching what is contained in the bill.
Mostly people are just wandering around verbally sticking it to The Man.
And that’s fine, but comes across a bit like “I don’t like this bill because the President looked at me in study hall the other day.” Ridiculous.
Disagree, fine. But give me a reason, for heaven’s sake. You’re not 3. You don’t get to have a valid point based upon ‘just because.’
You can have a sucker though. Cherry or grape?
And don’t forget to wash your hands before and after!
Sigh.
And I’d love to say that I’m open to this because I’m a liberal and have hugely detailed opinions on everything that happens in life.
But it’s more that something’s gotta change and I certainly haven’t thought of a better way. So I’ll try this way for a while.
It doesn’t have to be perfect yet.
With that many politicians hammering the play-doh together, how COULD it be?
But. It’s a start.
And that counts too.
You can’t even skip rocks on a pond this shallow.
March 9, 2010
I’m cranky.
I won’t lie.
Crankiness is the inevitable sign that my hormones have caught up with me and that life is crowding around, preparing to scream in my face.
Crankiness takes up a lot of my energy so I don’t generally yell back when that happens.
Ever have that moment where you KNOW you’re at a crossroads in your life and you’re actually scared of taking the wrong AND taking the right path?
I’m there.
My nerves are leading me down the ever energetic road of vibrating legs – I’m bouncing my desk up and down as we speak – it’s uncontrollable.
I don’t think it would be so bad if I weren’t second guessing so much of what I’ve done until this point in my life.
I’m being led in a direction by my principles and faith that feels right and BIG – so much bigger than I could have ever dreamed of on my own.
And I’m scared.
I can’t share this – these thoughts – with most people because what if they’re just the shallow thoughts of someone who wants to try a million different things in life before she dies?
What if this feeling, this desire to make a difference, is simply a figment of the moment?
And why can’t I stop being so damned vague?
It’s not my nature!
But. What if I say it out loud and people laugh?
Or if it’s the right way and I wish for it – if saying it out loud means my dream-of-the-moment won’t come true?
Will my generic career fickleness come back to haunt me?
Oh surely, it will.
Everyone around the house is doing well – Abbey’s trying out for cheerleading this week.
Yes. I gave birth to THAT child. Who’d have guessed?
I’m much more the nerdling type, but I suppose I can manage my way through the icky world of estrogen that cheerleading builds up for the parents.
this makeup in the morning, doing hair, making sure our clothes look great thing is completely new to me.
I was the kid that did the shower/smell-test/go! form of mornings.
Janie is doing well – the steroids have kicked in, meaning that confining her to the ground has been difficult. She stubbornly waits until I turn my head and jumps on something – and if I see her about to I catch her and put her up there myself. Only for her to jump down and back up as though to prove to the world that she can. Minx.
3rd week weigh-in tonight.
I’m curious if the trend will continue.
I’ve been picking up iced tea in the past few days – a habit that could become a habit… an odd one, since I don’t LIKE tea.
I just miss something to drink besides water and milk.
3 weeks without soda though. 21 days.
Technically they say it’s a habit now.
Horseshit, I tell you. Horseshit.
A little crumbly.
March 4, 2010
I admit it.
I am one of those people that treats their dogs like family.
Mainly because she IS family.
Both of them are, but one of them is blood related.
And no, I don’t consider that an insult to myself.
She’s an amazing beagle. Almost 8 years old – April is her birthday – and she’s intuitive and well-behaved. Sweet and loving and so freaking human-like that it surprises you.
I worry about her like a child and love her as one.
So when I came home last night and she didn’t come greet me and wouldn’t move from the rug under the dining table, I immediately grabbed my keys and off we went to the vet.
She has arthritis. Not surprising giving her age and breed but painful to hear.
Apparently my younger cow-sized beagle jumped on her and exacerbated it yesterday, which left J unable to lift her head, move much, sleep comfortably or even want to eat.
The vet is putting her on high dose steroids for a few weeks, then anti-inflammatories, changing a lot of her lifestyle and basically breaking my heart.
As she says, this will shorten her life but we can keep the quality of her life up if she responds to her meds.
She should feel better by the time I get home, as she’ll have been on the meds almost 24 hours, and I’m hoping so much for this, but in the meantime it’s like she got a ‘crick’ in her neck the size of Texas.
Any time she tried to get comfortable last night she screamed. Over and over and over until she forgot that every move she made wouldn’t hurt and so she just stopped moving in this half crouch.
I picked her up and put her on the bed and allowed her to get comfortable and that movement seemed to help.
But the time until then was a NIGHTMARE.
On the plus side, Janie Byrd got to eat an entire chicken breast, tons of extra treats and some regular food.
She won’t every day – she’s at a perfect beagle weight and extra pounds would really hurt her, but I just cried and cried last night and DAMNIT, my baby was getting a treat for being so stoic and well-behaved.
You should have seen her, crouched under the chair in the vets office, shaking so bad that fur was falling off her in clumps. She wouldn’t come to anyone but me and just leaned on me as though I could fix everything.
I’m trying, baby girl.
If this doesn’t work? Our only option is back surgery. An expensive and possible painful long-term procedure that would cut down on the quality of her life. I don’t know enough about it to make that choice and thank heavens that I don’t have to right now.
For the moment though, I’m just really really sad – the reality is that they don’t live as long as we do.
But I’d give up a ton if she could.
She’s my little support beam.
Learning can come from a very short amount of living as well.
February 26, 2010
I wrote a bit ago about Layla Grace and how she has touched my heart.
The amazing thing to me is not that she could, really, but that so many people feel the same way.
Following tweets regarding her lead you through big names like Kevin Smith, Ryan Seacrest, Jenny McCarthy and Lance Armstrong.
Amazing.
Amazing the power of this electronic world, that between blogs and tweets and facebook news of Layla has spread around the world.
Being a parent means that you want the absolute best for your children. You want to leave a legacy for them to remember. You want them to remain in good health. You want every happiness for them.
In this case, it’s Layla that’s leaving a legacy. Layla that will look down and wish her parents and sisters every happiness.
Her mom has said on her blog many times that Layla has accomplished so much in her short life - that obviously God had a plan for her.
And she’s right.
Because there are other people out there like me, people that find themselves waking up in the middle of the night to check twitter for updates. People with prayers on their lips and in their hearts. Even non-believers with fingers crossed and hopes and well wishes.
Before I never knew anything about childhood cancer. Now I know that there are strange names and strange cancers that I’ve never heard of whose victims make up such a small part of the cancer community.
But small isn’t less important. In any way.
These are cancers with small cure rates and long memories.
Small amounts of press and large amounts of suffered.
How many of you have walked a 5k in honor of Neuroblastoma recently? Exactly.
In the past few months I’ve read blogs and news articles and science bits and learned more than I ever wanted to know about the things that can twist and warp inside our bodies.
I’ve learned to value myself and my health more – a blessing I’ve been given that I take for granted.
And I’ve been growing this knot inside of me that says that my life needs to mean more.
You see?
Layla’s even leaving a legacy to me. A total stranger. A friend of a friend.
My life has changed for the better simply because she has existed.
I love her for that.
And wish like hell there was something I could do to make this easier on her family. But especially on her.
God bless her sweet little heart.
Fasting is for quitters.
February 17, 2010
I always relish the beginning of Lent.
I suppose I don’t focus on it the way that I should – I always want to use it as a method to give up something and lose weight. Or to try to fast more than I should.
And then I inevitably fail and make light of it the next year.
For instance, last year, I gave up Nicholas.
Which. Considering we didn’t plan to see each other during Lent wasn’t really a hardship. Or wasn’t really a hardship that I’m not already used to.
This year, however, I broke out the big guns.
Soda.
Now, for those of you that don’t know, I have a love affair with carbonated beverages.
Champagne, sparkling water, soda, etc.
If it’s carbonated, Lisha likey.
They don’t, however, like me.
Or maybe they do, considering how long they’ve been sticking around on my thighs.
Besides a few personal revelations that have left me reeling and questioning the direction I want my personal motivations to go in life, this year has brought a knowledge that being addicted to anything really is one of the biggest wastes in life. Taking luxuries for granted to the point where I am addicted to them? Ridiculous.
(disclosure: I am NOT saying addicts are ridiculous. I am NOT saying that there isn’t a real problem and real hardships out there with addictions… I’m simply saying that there are people out there without clean drinking water and instead of feeling overly blessed about that, I’m off jonesing for a root beer. THAT is pathetic.)
I’ve really been reevaluating my priorities and one thing I’m learning is, this money-grubbing societal mess of whiny ass people complaining about not being able to afford $200 haircuts anymore is NOT for me.
I don’t belong here.
These are not my people.
I’ve listened to sad stories for two years now and looking down from my high horse while I technically make the average salary for an entire HOUSEHOLD in my state is ridiculous.
My free time needs to mean more.
It needs to appreciate family more.
It needs to take care of myself better.
And in doing so, I’ll be able to be a better me and move on to a more final (yet not quite concrete idealistically) goal of helping OTHERS.
And so. Along with the beginning of Lent and my soda-less desk today brings a new activity.
Weight Watchers.
Yes. I am officially a part of those stereotypical middle aged women that sit around bitching about salads.
And yes, there is a reason that stereotype exists.
And when I jumped on the scale last night at my first meeting I realized something.
I have REALLY let myself go.
Fatty McFatterson exists and thy name is Lish.
In an attempt to gain insight to my usual eating habits – the one meal I eat a day and the snack I eat at night – I ate something I might indulge myself in every six months and THEN calculated points.
(being Ash Wednesday cuts out the usual 2 eggs and turkey bacon that I have)
So… I had chocolate milk and a package of chocolate doughnuts.
I know it totally defeats the WW purpose but IN MY DEFENSE… I was facing 40 days without soda and I just didn’t give a rat’s petunia.
The tally?
21 points.
Out of my daily ration of 30.
So.
Won’t be pulling that egocentric stunt again.
Still, with this being a day of fasting, all was not lost.
A granola bar at lunch added 2 points and leaves me with 7 for a VERY light dinner… considering the whole fasting thing, well, it’s perfect.
Score. I am keeping my first day right on track.
For those of you keeping score that means today was a day without soda, without meat, without regular meals and starting Weight Watchers.
Whether or not the food was what they intended, it actually falls in the rules of what I’m supposed to do, so I don’t feel like a failure, merely a hedger.
Stay tuned for the next few days where lack of carbonated awesomeness makes me hang small children and adults from trees by their middle toes.
