Return of Lily Ruth's Mama

I'm back! Or rather, I'm still here :-) We took a week and went to San Diego then Scottsdale. We saw lots of cool things and had a wonderful visit with a large group of our family.

Lily Ruth was amazing on our trip. A fantastic travel partner on both airplane rides. A super duper trooper during our looong car trip through the desert. A charming and hilarious sidekick for all of our mini-adventures along the way.

We are all HUGE fans of the San Diego Zoo. Our only glitch was in under-dressing. We were prepared for a 70 degree day - it was colder and MUCH windier. We ended up purchasing a fleece zip-up jacket to use as a blanket for Lily Ruth and a pair of 'children-size' gloves that she is now in love with. These pictures really crack me up!

Those cartoonishly large hands and that happy face!

We spent the morning on foot at the zoo, and returned after dark to ride the double-decker bus. We were basically the only people riding at that time. Lily Ruth got to sit in the front seat on the top level and watch the nighttime zoo go by. We stayed on for 2 (or was it 3?) full cycles around the park. It was wonderful.

She wasn't as thrilled with the Birch Aquarium. It is short on aquatic mammals and big on science demos. She did develop a love for pushing exhibit buttons and turning dials. She only agreed to one photo:

After that, I had to catch her on the sly:

'Where are the pictures of you?' You might be asking yourself... well... we're at the part that has kept me so quiet lately. I had one of 'those' moments. You know the ones - you've been chugging along thinking that everything was fine (or at least fine-ish)... then somebody takes a picture of you, and you get a long look at yourself. *sigh* I knew that I was puffing up a bit. My pants have become too tight, and my shirts are lumpy... but if I just took quick peeks in the mirror and only checked things like my makeup or hair, then I could put it off. Now, I can't - because there's this:

Worn down, dragged out, and much larger than I had allowed myself to believe. This year has taken a toll on me. It's time to stop letting that be o.k. Time to make a plan for becoming the woman that I want to be - strong, vital and full of joy. Time to stop physically dragging my sadness around as extra weight and exhaustion. Time to talk to somebody about the depression.

Thanks for listening, you guys. As I work out my plan, I'll fill you in on the details. For now, writing it down is serving as my impetus for motion.

I have more pictures to share, and even more crafting (!!). Hopefully, working on removing the roadblock of delusion will mean the return of my voice. I'm sure that I'll have more to say soon... bear with me...

Another (VERY IMPORTANT) Soapbox

As the mother of a girl, as a woman and as a citizen in this society, I feel that have a responsibility to stand up about this:

One of my favorite blogs - Not That Kind Of Girl - posted a bit outside of her norm yesterday. She's taking a stand against a tequila commercial and for the right to have informed consent before sexual contact. Yesterday's original post can be found here. Language alert: this woman is angry, and pulling no punches. She has given her thoughts time to simmer, condense and reorganize. Her additional thoughts are here.

I'm not sure what form my soapbox will take on this issue, but I'm going to start with a letter to Sauza.

I'm worried enough about the 'dating world' that my daughter will enter. In today's climate, buying a girl a drink means that she's obligated to (at the very least) give you her phone number. Buying her several drinks (or dinner) supposedly assures you a sexual encounter. I want to teach my daughter that her body belongs to HER, and cannot be bought with alcohol, food, bullying or deceit. I want her to value herself and her integrity above her desire to be 'liked' or 'included'. Standing up and demanding change in the images that children, teens, young adults - heck EVERYONE - are bombarded with is a good place to start.

From the Darkest Depths of My Brain

Here are some things that have recently run through my addled mind...

"If I had a Twitter account, I would Tweet things like 'I just pooped out half my body weight' since the Library of Congress records every Tweet."

"I wish I had more drag queens in my life."

"I wish I still had that corset..."


... that's from a high school production of 'Hedda Gabbler' - that's me on the right. I hadn't seen that picture in 20 years, and my first thought is that I miss the costume. I guess we can all figure out my motivation for being involved in the theatre...

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Here are some phrases that I've actually SAID recently... in front of/to other people...

"That must have been one sweet-ass teddy bear picnic." - to Kittyn's hubby

"I am sooooooooo tired of all of this SNOT." - at Macy's... loudly :-/

"Do NOT grab Mommy's nipples when you get to her!!!" - swim class... also very loudly :-O

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Oh, and remember how I've been thinking about body image and not wanting to model an unhealthy body image for Lily Ruth? Well, I had to go get a new bathing suit today. The awesome pair of boy-shorts that I've been wearing for the last 7 or 8 years have finally started to get a bit thin in the seat. Since we're spending more pool time with the baby, I decided to replace them before there was a public incident involving my naked rear end. I went to Macy's and looked around. There were NO boy shorts :-( so I started looking at the little skirted bottoms. I finally found a pair that matched a top in my size, AND IT WASN'T AWFUL. I looked into the mirror and thought 'alright then. That'll do just fine.' My tummy, my hips, my buns... all a but jigglier than I would prefer, but I'm not twenty any more. I was able to look at myself and honor who I am in this space. I'm a Mama. I'm a 37-year-old. I'm in the process of shedding 15 years of emotional baggage that has translated itself into (a LOT of) extra weight. For where I am in my life, I look pretty damn good! I'm not a kid, I'm not a model, I'm a real, not skinny person. IN A TWO PIECE BATHING SUIT - VOLUNTARILY :-)!!!!!

*** EDIT *** well, here I am...

Cooking for Two... or Three... or Forty...

This afternoon, I was throwing together another batch of the lasagne recipe that I made up recently, and it struck me - next week, I will have been married for FOURTEEN YEARS, and I have never figured out how to cook for just two people! When I started that recipe, I was genuinely trying to make a small pan of lasagne for 2 people and a tiny baby. I ended up with a 11 X 7 pan that fed 6 adults & 1 baby and I still had leftovers for 3 lunches. Sadly, that was one of my better efforts at cutting back. I would have normally ended up with a 9 X 13 pan PLUS either an 11 X 7 pan or a loaf pan. Oh dear.

Obviously, this is not a new issue. It goes back (waaaay back) to my childhood. My mama is an excellent cook (as is my grandmother). She can take what a lot of people would see as an empty fridge/pantry, and make a tasty meal. By the time I was old enough to really help in the kitchen, there were five people in our family, and two of them were young boys who were growing like weeds. So while I was learning how to cook, everything that my mama and I made was whipped up in fairly large quantities. When I moved out on my own, I seemed to have cooking for one down to a science, but it was because I was so limited on funds and that it sort-of happened on it's own. When Don & I married, and I started to really cook, our portion sizes spiraled out of control very quickly. By choosing to stay home most nights - eating in instead of out - we each put on (at least) 20 pounds in the first year or so of our union. Our fridge was constantly full of leftovers... a trend that has not abated over the years...

*le sigh* It's just that I love to eat, and I love to cook. It pleases me enormously to see large quantities of fresh, beautiful foods become meals for the people I love under my hands.

I think that maybe I need to learn other ways to express my deep and abiding love for my family. The absolute LAST behavior that I would want to model for my daughter is a poor body image/low self esteem. So this is it. Time to put up or shut up. Time to either lose weight and stay there, or become completely comfortable where I am so that Lily Ruth never sees me panic when I put on clothes. Oi, the responsibility!

You know, I started this post with a very different twist to this theme in mind. I can't even fit it in now. It just won't go... I'm just so very tired. I even made myself sick - anyone want to join me for one of my semi-bi-annual sinus infections? I feel a bit overwhelmed. When I feel like this, it's easy to lose sight of what's important. Like the fact that my husband is NOT abandoning me so he can go party like a rock star out of town every week. He is, in fact, working his ass off so that I can stay home to raise our daughter. Or the fact that I am incredibly lucky to have this time in my life, with this family, in this house, in this body. Or even the fact that Lily Ruth will not always want to sleep with me. It feels like an imposition on my time, good will and sleep to have her want so desperately to be near me, but there will come a day when she will want nothing more than to sleep alone in her own space and I will idealize this time in my memories.

It's time again to step back, center, breathe and give thanks. Even if the best take on this that I can manage tonight is 30 minutes to myself with a small glass of wine and a 'hug' from my dog. It'll be enough... and tomorrow I will manage more.

Why I like shoes...

If you've ever met me, you know that I am not small. Nothing about me could be called small - except maybe my patience. Now, this is not a bad thing, it's just who I am. What it does mean, is that when I gain weight, I get to really big really fast. And (just like the rest of the world), I do not enjoy shopping for clothing when I am feeling really big. Shopping becomes something that you HAVE to do, not something you could enjoy doing (p.s., I don't like clothing shopping in the best of times).

Something that is ALWAYS fun to buy though, are shoes. Your feet always look the same, and shoe stores tend to only have those tiny mirrors on the side of that little stool, so you can ignore any parts of you that you don't want to see. As a result, at any time in my adult life that I have avoided mirrors, I have turned to shoes. My closet floor is littered with a decade's worth of flights of fancy (fancy that was purchased for $40 or less per pair as we were close to broke for a lot of those years) that have become obsolete since I 1) became a massage therapist and 2) gave birth. I've pretty much lived in flip flops or sneakers for the last 5 years, and my beautiful shoe 'collection' has languished alone and neglected.

Luckily for me, I have (mostly) come to terms with my body in the past few years. We may not see completely eye to eye on my current shape, but I am by no means miserable about that. The only 'downside' to this has been that I lost the ability to justify needless shoe purchases... until today. Today, I chose to throw common sense and rational thought out the window so that I could purchase a pair of shoes that has haunted my dreams for a month now:



I know - HAWT.

I originally had no idea where this obsession came from. They're really not my style. They literally do not match even one outfit that I own. Yet, starting from the first moment I saw them starring as the 'shoe of the week' for Gabby B's, they have romped through my imagination. I can only picture myself in them from my ankles down because I seriously have not even one thing in my possession to wear them with, but this did not stop me. AND, in my defense, they were only $30. Practically free. Plus, it's so hard to put a price on happiness :-P

Here's what I think might have prompted this - the funk. The funk brings out the worst in you. Feeling old? The funk makes you feel ANCIENT. Feeling lonely? The funk makes you feel like Tom Hanks in that movie I never saw where he's stranded on a desert island with only a volleyball for a friend. I think that in my state of funk, I latched onto the shoes as something that would make me feel fun and hip and maybe even 'with it'. It sounds dumb to even type that, but sounding dumb doesn't make it any less true. Luckily for me, I recognized and acknowledged this ahead of time. Then I was able to process the funk, weigh my options, and buy the damn shoes with my eyes wide open, and no regrets in sight.

So thank you, funk, my inner child totally needed these shoes. You may retreat into your hole until our next battle.