July 16, 2013
Dear Thomas,
Tonight is your last night as a one year old. I thought I would give you a glimpse of what you're like, on the precipice of a new year.
Right now we are (for the most part) enjoying our summer together. Your family and some buddies celebrated your birthday on Sunday with an epic Nemo themed(ish) party. I worked way too hard but it was fun. Your Aunts and Uncles built (yes! Built!) you an amazing sandbox which you love like crazy, especially now that it's filled with new trucks and things to dig. Which brings me to my next point; you love trucks, tractors and things with wheels. You love to dig. You love sand. I hate sand, but I love you. So I put up with it. Mostly.
We are attempting potty training... I don't want to push too hard, and you don't seem overly interested. Which is fine. You are absolutely exhibiting traits of the "terrible two's" on a fairly regular basis. You are just so advanced that you've been practicing your terribleness for at least 3 months. You have very particular ideas about which things should happen when and how (just like some other people I know) and when you don't get your way you get very upset. "Mommy! Stop singing!"
I will remind you of a conversation we had last week which basically went like this:
"Milk? Drink? Milk?"
"Thomas, I forgot to bring you a drink. We don't have any milk with us."
"Milk. Milk please Mummy? Milk. DRINK."
This went on (without cease) for at least 20 minutes before I finally decided to bail on the park, and found a drink (but not milk) in your bag in the car. You rock a ladybug backpack, like it's nobody's business.
Every now and then I get exasperated and want to scream and cry... It's very frustrating when we don't get our own way. I understand. I think part of it comes from the fact that you are SO smart and so articulate. You have more words than most other two year old's I know. I don't know what to attribute that to, (except for Dad's theory that you sucked out both our brains as a baby) but I think it's awesome when you parrot me.
You love Hobbes (sometimes painfully), you worship your Grandpa (he has the tractors after all) and I think you'd really love to be able to spend more time with Daddio. I don't know where the "o" thing came from, Daddio is clearly because you're a Cool Cat from the fifties... But Mummy-o, Thomas-o? I don't get it. It sure is cute though.
You love books. And that is fantastic because your whole family loves books. I can't wait to read you the Harry Potter series. We read James and the Giant Peach a few months ago, it only took a few weeks! But your attention span for the sound of my voice was impressive, since there aren't many pictures in that book. But I think if you were given the opportunity, you would likely sit and watch t.v. all day... Couch potato!
You've recently started fighting sleep and naps like some kind of demon... I'm not sure if it's the heat or a growth spurt or if you've just decided you miss too much when you sleep... Honestly, your Dad and I spend some time arguing over our newly-acquired Netflix (he wants me to watch all the nerdy things... I have my limits! And so many sitcoms to catch up on!) and crashing. Very rarely are you missing anything fun! So please PLEASE start doing the napping and sleeping thing... They're so important for your parents.
You can be so sweet, caring, funny, charming and adorable. You can also be stubborn, frustrating, loud and exasperating. Basically, in most ways you are already a two-year old. Except the number of days you've been alive. You are still trying to hang on to your babyhood in many ways, (your sookie, refusing to climb up or down stairs, your stuffies - especially Hop... and that's adorable. I hope you still sleep with Hop when you're 35) but every day I see more of the little boy you are quickly (too quickly) becoming. You tuck in your stuffies, you apologize for your behaviour, patting Grandma on the back when you realize you were hurting her. I can see glimpses of who you are becoming, and I am so proud.
The last two years have been more challenging than I could ever have imagined. Parenting is not what anyone will ever be able to tell you. You will not understand until you live it. No matter what. But it has been so full of complete and utter joy. The purest joy at watching you discover something new, seeing you grow and change and become more of who you are every day.
If you could slow down a little, I'd really appreciate it. I want just a little more time to spend with my Sweet Little Pea.
I love you more than all the words and all the stars and all the drops of water in the sea. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.
Mummy-o
Tuesday, July 16, 2013
Thursday, September 27, 2012
Girls and Boys
Possibly a little scattered. Just a little... Here we go!
Since it's September again, (how the crap did that happen, anyway?) all the super-fun programs and activities for Thom are starting up again. One of which is a playgroup at our new local community center on Mondays and Thursdays. We go and Thom plays and hangs out with his buddies and it's generally a great time (until he crashes, because it's right at nap time).
Lately as I watch Thom and his buddies play I've become more and more aware of the (seemingly innate) differences between boys and girls in terms of gender roles. As I talk to parents it seems like we don't necessarily teach little girls how to play with dolls, or little boys how to drive trucks (complete with sound effects) but it was fascinating to see the little girls show up in playgroup and head for the dolls and the kitchen and the dress-up section, where the boys headed for the tool bench and the cars and trucks. Just thought it was interesting. I was speaking with some of Mike's co-workers yesterday and they mentioned that even if you don't necessarily expose your kid to the "gender stereotype" toys and activities, they will sometimes just be drawn that way. Little girls loving dolls and pink, even though their Mom tried to avoid it etc.
On that same note though, as Thom and I were sitting playing with some farm animals (he's a little obsessed with animal sounds right now) I was looking through some of the other smaller toys that were in buckets around us being played with by the bigger kids... I was kind of shocked and appalled. There were your typical "Barbie" style toys, wearing their crop-tops and their shorty-skirts (with roller-blades, because that's practical...) but nobody's surprised by those anymore. I'm thinking more about the "boy" toys, since that's what I'm dealing with right now! The policeman had some kind of crazy blaster-gun/backpack thing that I couldn't even identify, the pirates all had swords, the cowboy had some kind of weapon, but the thing that surprised me was how BEEFY these figurines were. Muscles everywhere, even their thighs. And it got me thinking; we focus so much on body image and girls and just what are we teaching them with their Barbies and their "Bratz" dolls (the horror), but the same goes for boys. When it comes to what it means to "be a man", does it have to be all about muscles and guns?
*Disclaimer* I am totally aware that all the toys at Playgroup are donated, nor do I place any blame on the playgroup itself for the toys! They are EVERYWHERE.
If you know our family at all, you know we try to be pretty free-flowing when it comes to gender/sexuality/all of that. I don't go so far as to not call him a boy, he has the dangley bit, so he's a boy. Unless or until he tells me otherwise. A rule I like for Thom (that Mike actually came up with!) is "if he picks it, we support it". But he chooses it for himself. So if he chooses to bring home a purple hedgehog from the dollar store, that's cool (has happened). If he decides he wants to carry around a baby doll, also cool (hasn't happened yet). He came really close to pink and purple running shoes, which would have been fine with me, but once he saw the bright green, he was sold. I want him to be able to make decisions for himself when it comes to toys, clothes etc. I want him to know that being a man has nothing to do with muscles and weapons. I know a lot of this is going to fall on Mike, and I'm okay with that because I think he's got a handle on it. I want Thom to be comfortable with the person he decides to be, because we will support him no matter what!
Since it's September again, (how the crap did that happen, anyway?) all the super-fun programs and activities for Thom are starting up again. One of which is a playgroup at our new local community center on Mondays and Thursdays. We go and Thom plays and hangs out with his buddies and it's generally a great time (until he crashes, because it's right at nap time).
Lately as I watch Thom and his buddies play I've become more and more aware of the (seemingly innate) differences between boys and girls in terms of gender roles. As I talk to parents it seems like we don't necessarily teach little girls how to play with dolls, or little boys how to drive trucks (complete with sound effects) but it was fascinating to see the little girls show up in playgroup and head for the dolls and the kitchen and the dress-up section, where the boys headed for the tool bench and the cars and trucks. Just thought it was interesting. I was speaking with some of Mike's co-workers yesterday and they mentioned that even if you don't necessarily expose your kid to the "gender stereotype" toys and activities, they will sometimes just be drawn that way. Little girls loving dolls and pink, even though their Mom tried to avoid it etc.
On that same note though, as Thom and I were sitting playing with some farm animals (he's a little obsessed with animal sounds right now) I was looking through some of the other smaller toys that were in buckets around us being played with by the bigger kids... I was kind of shocked and appalled. There were your typical "Barbie" style toys, wearing their crop-tops and their shorty-skirts (with roller-blades, because that's practical...) but nobody's surprised by those anymore. I'm thinking more about the "boy" toys, since that's what I'm dealing with right now! The policeman had some kind of crazy blaster-gun/backpack thing that I couldn't even identify, the pirates all had swords, the cowboy had some kind of weapon, but the thing that surprised me was how BEEFY these figurines were. Muscles everywhere, even their thighs. And it got me thinking; we focus so much on body image and girls and just what are we teaching them with their Barbies and their "Bratz" dolls (the horror), but the same goes for boys. When it comes to what it means to "be a man", does it have to be all about muscles and guns?
*Disclaimer* I am totally aware that all the toys at Playgroup are donated, nor do I place any blame on the playgroup itself for the toys! They are EVERYWHERE.
If you know our family at all, you know we try to be pretty free-flowing when it comes to gender/sexuality/all of that. I don't go so far as to not call him a boy, he has the dangley bit, so he's a boy. Unless or until he tells me otherwise. A rule I like for Thom (that Mike actually came up with!) is "if he picks it, we support it". But he chooses it for himself. So if he chooses to bring home a purple hedgehog from the dollar store, that's cool (has happened). If he decides he wants to carry around a baby doll, also cool (hasn't happened yet). He came really close to pink and purple running shoes, which would have been fine with me, but once he saw the bright green, he was sold. I want him to be able to make decisions for himself when it comes to toys, clothes etc. I want him to know that being a man has nothing to do with muscles and weapons. I know a lot of this is going to fall on Mike, and I'm okay with that because I think he's got a handle on it. I want Thom to be comfortable with the person he decides to be, because we will support him no matter what!
Friday, August 17, 2012
The Past 5 Years
Hey y'all! It's been a while :) Update on my life: Thom is 13 months old, (or as Mike insists, "A year and a bit!" He is *very* opposed to counting months after babies turn 1) and starting to walk! It's so exciting to see him when he takes a couple of steps, he gets so proud!
But tonight I'm gonna gush over another important boy... AKA my man. Since tomorrow is our fifth(!) anniversary, I thought I'd mark the occasion by gushing a little. I think I'm entitled.
I know there were a number of people who thought I was nuts for getting married so young, (and some people thought I must have been pregnant and that was the only reason we were getting married. Nice.) but I maintain that Mike and I were absolutely meant for one another. I've known him most of my life, and had a crush on him since I was like 10 years old. A little weird? Maybe. More like "unusual"... But I think it just furthers my argument!
We've been through so much over the course of our relationship and the past five years...
He's my soulmate, my best friend, my love. Here's to another five years, and another sixty after that!
But tonight I'm gonna gush over another important boy... AKA my man. Since tomorrow is our fifth(!) anniversary, I thought I'd mark the occasion by gushing a little. I think I'm entitled.
I know there were a number of people who thought I was nuts for getting married so young, (and some people thought I must have been pregnant and that was the only reason we were getting married. Nice.) but I maintain that Mike and I were absolutely meant for one another. I've known him most of my life, and had a crush on him since I was like 10 years old. A little weird? Maybe. More like "unusual"... But I think it just furthers my argument!
We've been through so much over the course of our relationship and the past five years...
- I finished school and teacher's college.
- Mike changed companies, I changed many of my jobs and volunteer opportunities
- We've seen friends and family married, divorced, have kids, new relationships, some friends have literally moved away, some have moved away in an emotional sense, and many a new friend has been made! (Hi new friends!)
- We've sadly lost many loved ones
- We traveled all around Ireland, man that was a good time.
- We sold our old (new) house and bought a new (old) house
- We brought a person into the world! And it was exciting and so scary and every day is an adventure.
He's my soulmate, my best friend, my love. Here's to another five years, and another sixty after that!
One of my favourite wedding pictures
Back when we were first dating! Not much has changed, except glasses and shorter hair :)
Happy anniversary darling! xoxo
Happy anniversary darling! xoxo
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Family, by Choice
I am a very lucky lady. I am extremely close to my immediate family, and they all live so close by! My Mom and sisters and I are like four peas in a rather boisterous pod. I also have a great family of in-laws that are wonderful and supportive and also live nearby. But earlier this week I was "gently prompted" (lol) to write a post about some other amazing people in my life. Thom and I, along with my Mom went on a whirlwind road-trip down to "The County" (Prince Edward County) to visit my fantastic (and so young looking) Godparents, Donna and Denis.
These two, along with their kids (Hi Em & Mike!) have been there for our family since WAY before I was born. Donna's friendship with my Mom has always been an example of how two people can stay friends through thick and thin, and though they may not see each other as often as they'd like, you can always pick up right where you left off. Donna and Denis have been a shining example of a strong loving marriage, which I desperately needed growing up! They have raised two great kids who were (and are) friends of ours and they have a beautiful (newly renovated!) home. We were lucky enough on this very short (24 hour) trip to have dinner with Donna's family, and I love that I am as comfortable with her parents as I am with my own grandparents, they're hilarious people. Donna's 97 year old grandma was even there, and she is an amazing lady! Still in her own home and still very independent.
But when we started discussing whether Thom could call Mike (Farmer) "Uncle Mike", (and my answer was an obvious "yes!") I started thinking about what makes someone family. Everyone has a family, whether they are close with them or not, whether they even know them or not. But some people aren't as close with their family as I am. Emotionally or in terms of distance. Does that mean that they are less "family"? Not technically... But I know that some people who live far away from their biological family sometimes make a new family. A family of friends. People you can count on, for anything at any time. People who support you, who cheer you on and share your joys and tears. Who can call you out for all your crap, but still make you laugh at the end of it all. This is the relationship our family has to Donna and Denis. When we'd all be at the cottage growing up, you never knew which Mom would be telling you off if you screwed up!
I heard someone say "You can't pick your family", but I think you can't pick ALL your family. Some family you're born with, and some become family over time. You build a family with love, whether you do it biologically or through acquisition. And I love my crazy family!!
These two, along with their kids (Hi Em & Mike!) have been there for our family since WAY before I was born. Donna's friendship with my Mom has always been an example of how two people can stay friends through thick and thin, and though they may not see each other as often as they'd like, you can always pick up right where you left off. Donna and Denis have been a shining example of a strong loving marriage, which I desperately needed growing up! They have raised two great kids who were (and are) friends of ours and they have a beautiful (newly renovated!) home. We were lucky enough on this very short (24 hour) trip to have dinner with Donna's family, and I love that I am as comfortable with her parents as I am with my own grandparents, they're hilarious people. Donna's 97 year old grandma was even there, and she is an amazing lady! Still in her own home and still very independent.
But when we started discussing whether Thom could call Mike (Farmer) "Uncle Mike", (and my answer was an obvious "yes!") I started thinking about what makes someone family. Everyone has a family, whether they are close with them or not, whether they even know them or not. But some people aren't as close with their family as I am. Emotionally or in terms of distance. Does that mean that they are less "family"? Not technically... But I know that some people who live far away from their biological family sometimes make a new family. A family of friends. People you can count on, for anything at any time. People who support you, who cheer you on and share your joys and tears. Who can call you out for all your crap, but still make you laugh at the end of it all. This is the relationship our family has to Donna and Denis. When we'd all be at the cottage growing up, you never knew which Mom would be telling you off if you screwed up!
I heard someone say "You can't pick your family", but I think you can't pick ALL your family. Some family you're born with, and some become family over time. You build a family with love, whether you do it biologically or through acquisition. And I love my crazy family!!
Thursday, March 8, 2012
Creepin' But Not Quite Crawling
It's a momentous day. Somehow I managed to convince Thom to almost "army crawl" across the playroom floor this morning! It took like 20 minutes, and it involved a lot of effort on his part, but he did it! I can just feel how close he is to crawling, and it's both exciting and terrifying. I don't know if I'm ready to have a mobile baby! But as we approach this milestone I realize (again) how fast time is passing. My squidgey little baby is becoming a busy little guy!
I just want to press "pause" and appreciate the time we spend together. We still have our moments-we always will! I'll get frustrated with his whiny sounds, he'll get mad at me when I don't know what he wants... But lately (other than teething time) we've been having some excellent times. WAY more fun than frustrations. The past few weeks we've done a lot of fun things, and I hope to do many more in the weeks to come. I don't know how long I will be "off" from work (or if I will go back) but I want to make the most of these days.
We have a fairly rigorous bedtime routine for Thom that we try to stick to. Every evening after Mike gets home, we have some playing time, jumping time and then dinner. After dinner Mike does bath-time and then Thom gets ready for bed. There's lots of giggling and laughing during these times. 5 o'clock used to be called "Yelling Hour" in our house, but most of the time that is no longer the case. When Thom is ready for bed, I feed him and then we spend some time snuggling. And honestly, there is nothing in the world I value more than those ten or fifteen minutes every day. Even when he is still wound up and he's rolling back and forth and I'm sighing, eventually he snuggles down, wipes his oily head (cradle cap) all over my face (maybe that's why my skin is so bad?) and buries his face in my neck. And my heart melts. Every time.
I know that he's growing up, (too fast!) and eventually he won't want to snuggle with his Mom to fall asleep. I have to remember that when he wants to snuggle to fall asleep at 3am... I know that this is "Mommy time", and in a couple of years it will be "Daddy time", and Mike will be his hero. At least I hope he will :) but for the time being, he's Mommy's Boy, and I can't help but love him to bits.
Look how freaking cute!
I just want to press "pause" and appreciate the time we spend together. We still have our moments-we always will! I'll get frustrated with his whiny sounds, he'll get mad at me when I don't know what he wants... But lately (other than teething time) we've been having some excellent times. WAY more fun than frustrations. The past few weeks we've done a lot of fun things, and I hope to do many more in the weeks to come. I don't know how long I will be "off" from work (or if I will go back) but I want to make the most of these days.
We have a fairly rigorous bedtime routine for Thom that we try to stick to. Every evening after Mike gets home, we have some playing time, jumping time and then dinner. After dinner Mike does bath-time and then Thom gets ready for bed. There's lots of giggling and laughing during these times. 5 o'clock used to be called "Yelling Hour" in our house, but most of the time that is no longer the case. When Thom is ready for bed, I feed him and then we spend some time snuggling. And honestly, there is nothing in the world I value more than those ten or fifteen minutes every day. Even when he is still wound up and he's rolling back and forth and I'm sighing, eventually he snuggles down, wipes his oily head (cradle cap) all over my face (maybe that's why my skin is so bad?) and buries his face in my neck. And my heart melts. Every time.
I know that he's growing up, (too fast!) and eventually he won't want to snuggle with his Mom to fall asleep. I have to remember that when he wants to snuggle to fall asleep at 3am... I know that this is "Mommy time", and in a couple of years it will be "Daddy time", and Mike will be his hero. At least I hope he will :) but for the time being, he's Mommy's Boy, and I can't help but love him to bits.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
He Lied About Death
I've been trying to write a post for about a month. Not this particular post, but anything. I'll get to a point and then decide that I don't actually want to talk about whatever it is I'm writing, or my computer will crash without it saving, and it's just too difficult to go back to what I was writing. So I'm trying again. This post might be a little depressing, but it's what's going on in my life right now.
Here's some background: Mike's grandparents on his Mom's side passed away a number of years ago. His Grandma Sayles died shortly after Mike and I got engaged, and it was my first real experience with death. I was lucky enough growing up to not have been exposed to people dying very often, and when I was I was too afraid to go to funerals or visitations. So it was a strange thing to attend your first visitation when you're standing in the receiving line. People I didn't know kept coming up to us and congratulating us on our engagement and then giving us their condolences for Grandma Marie's passing. Grandpa Tom (who we named Thomas after) died about a year after she did. Then in 2009 I learned what it was like to have someone really close pass away when my Papa (my Mom's father) died. He had been sick for quite some time, but it was still really difficult to see him go downhill and change from the man I knew and loved growing up into less and less of himself.
The reason I'm thinking about this is because Mike's two remaining grandparents (on his Dad's side) are both struggling health-wise. His Grandma's kidneys are shutting down, (she's in her late 80's) and Grandpa had a stroke a few weeks ago, and is really not doing well. So we went into the nursing home today to visit them both.
Something strange seems to happen whenever I'm going to visit someone who is dying. I don't know if it's just me, but when we decided to go visit today, I immediately wanted to look my best. I felt the need to make sure I had showered and actually struggled about what to wear. I felt sorry that I didn't have a chance to take off my chipped nail polish. Did Grandpa notice? Not in the least, the poor man barely opened his eyes while we were there. Though he did seem to realize Thom was there, and he was trying to sit up to see him. And I doubt anyone else who was there noticed my chipped nail polish or the fact that I actually put on mascara. What is it about being faced with death that makes us want to look our best? Is this what makes people dress up for funerals? Does the person who has passed notice? Or is it as a sign of respect to those who are still living?
I almost feel like part of the reason we (or at least I) wanted to look my best was maybe some kind of way for me to "face death", and show Death that I'm still really busy using my life? I'm clearly not done with it... I don't know.
I noticed a weird thing that happens to people when they're faced with their mortality when a loved one is sick. Some people feel the need to fill empty silences with noise. Not even conversation, just talking for the sake of hearing their own voice, or just to make sound. Some people talk about the sick person as though they're already gone, or not in the room. Some people can't even look in the direction of the person who just days or weeks ago was someone they loved. It's interesting to be someone who is more on the periphery of the situation, I can just watch it without having to involve myself. Watching everyone avoid talking about the reason why they're all there. Watching people "go for walks" instead of sitting in the room. The silences, the averted gazes, the elephant in the room.
I gained a new appreciation for the nurses and hospice workers who are willing and able to be the people to care for people in their final moments. I also gained a new appreciation for my mother-in-law and my Mom for the same reason. When we saw Papa for the last time, my Mom sat with him and gave him sips of water and tried to make him comfortable. The same is true of my mother-in-law today with her father-in-law. It takes a special kind of person to be able to look Death straight in the face and know that it's never that far away from any of us.
More than anything, I think that situations like this make me appreciate life more. Norman and Beatrice have been really blessed with a wonderful family and a long (long) happy life together. I want to create a legacy like that with Mike. It makes me appreciate the family I have, (immediate and extended) because I am lucky to have such great people in my life. And it makes me thankful for my health. I know that I won't be here forever, (and that still really scares me) but I want to live my life while I'm here, and live it well. And when the time comes for me to leave this life, I can only hope that I feel ready, and that I greet Death like an old friend, and go with him willingly.
Here's some background: Mike's grandparents on his Mom's side passed away a number of years ago. His Grandma Sayles died shortly after Mike and I got engaged, and it was my first real experience with death. I was lucky enough growing up to not have been exposed to people dying very often, and when I was I was too afraid to go to funerals or visitations. So it was a strange thing to attend your first visitation when you're standing in the receiving line. People I didn't know kept coming up to us and congratulating us on our engagement and then giving us their condolences for Grandma Marie's passing. Grandpa Tom (who we named Thomas after) died about a year after she did. Then in 2009 I learned what it was like to have someone really close pass away when my Papa (my Mom's father) died. He had been sick for quite some time, but it was still really difficult to see him go downhill and change from the man I knew and loved growing up into less and less of himself.
The reason I'm thinking about this is because Mike's two remaining grandparents (on his Dad's side) are both struggling health-wise. His Grandma's kidneys are shutting down, (she's in her late 80's) and Grandpa had a stroke a few weeks ago, and is really not doing well. So we went into the nursing home today to visit them both.
Something strange seems to happen whenever I'm going to visit someone who is dying. I don't know if it's just me, but when we decided to go visit today, I immediately wanted to look my best. I felt the need to make sure I had showered and actually struggled about what to wear. I felt sorry that I didn't have a chance to take off my chipped nail polish. Did Grandpa notice? Not in the least, the poor man barely opened his eyes while we were there. Though he did seem to realize Thom was there, and he was trying to sit up to see him. And I doubt anyone else who was there noticed my chipped nail polish or the fact that I actually put on mascara. What is it about being faced with death that makes us want to look our best? Is this what makes people dress up for funerals? Does the person who has passed notice? Or is it as a sign of respect to those who are still living?
I almost feel like part of the reason we (or at least I) wanted to look my best was maybe some kind of way for me to "face death", and show Death that I'm still really busy using my life? I'm clearly not done with it... I don't know.
I noticed a weird thing that happens to people when they're faced with their mortality when a loved one is sick. Some people feel the need to fill empty silences with noise. Not even conversation, just talking for the sake of hearing their own voice, or just to make sound. Some people talk about the sick person as though they're already gone, or not in the room. Some people can't even look in the direction of the person who just days or weeks ago was someone they loved. It's interesting to be someone who is more on the periphery of the situation, I can just watch it without having to involve myself. Watching everyone avoid talking about the reason why they're all there. Watching people "go for walks" instead of sitting in the room. The silences, the averted gazes, the elephant in the room.
I gained a new appreciation for the nurses and hospice workers who are willing and able to be the people to care for people in their final moments. I also gained a new appreciation for my mother-in-law and my Mom for the same reason. When we saw Papa for the last time, my Mom sat with him and gave him sips of water and tried to make him comfortable. The same is true of my mother-in-law today with her father-in-law. It takes a special kind of person to be able to look Death straight in the face and know that it's never that far away from any of us.
More than anything, I think that situations like this make me appreciate life more. Norman and Beatrice have been really blessed with a wonderful family and a long (long) happy life together. I want to create a legacy like that with Mike. It makes me appreciate the family I have, (immediate and extended) because I am lucky to have such great people in my life. And it makes me thankful for my health. I know that I won't be here forever, (and that still really scares me) but I want to live my life while I'm here, and live it well. And when the time comes for me to leave this life, I can only hope that I feel ready, and that I greet Death like an old friend, and go with him willingly.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Holy crap!
This morning I put on a pair of jeans. Nothing new there, except that I pulled them on but couldn't do them up.... Panic sets in, "But I've been working so hard! I know I ate a piece of cake and other yummy things at the party yesterday, but this is ridiculous!"
And then I realize...
They were Mike's jeans.
My husband is also known as Mr. No Bum... And I was wearing his jeans! And except for not being able to do up the button, (and being too long) they actually fit! This is a HUGE deal for me. Never in my wildest dreams would I think of being able to put on and pull up his jeans.
I gained about 30 pounds while I was pregnant, which to me wasn't bad. I didn't really change my eating habits, no crazy cravings except for red licorice and cucumber (and occasionally french fries with ice cream, but that started before I got pregnant). That's not too bad, right? However I wasn't exactly "healthy" before becoming pregnant. But after Thom was born (and I started losing weight right away), I knew I needed to take some kind of control to ensure success. So when a friend mentioned he was trying a "Low G.I. Diet", and then we found a book with that very title at my in-law's, I figured it was meant to be.
That was in October. It's now January, and I've lost 61 pounds so far! And the best part is that it's still dropping! Slower than before, but slow and steady. I have to be aware of what I eat. Mike is super supportive, he does most of the cooking, I just have to tell him what to make! He also tries to eat two servings of everything because he CAN'T afford to lose any weight, he's already so freaking skinny.
I still have my temptations (*cough*chocolate*cough), but I act reasonably and rationally. I also don't restrict myself to the point of deprivation, because that will just make me want it more! If I'm going to a birthday party, I'm gonna have a piece of cake! Thanksgiving came and went, (successfully) Christmas came and went (mostly successfully). But when holidays were over, I got back to eating regularly and so far so good. I imagine the summer will be hard (ice cream...) but it's also easier to keep doing the right thing when I know it's working.
It's a journey!
And then I realize...
They were Mike's jeans.
My husband is also known as Mr. No Bum... And I was wearing his jeans! And except for not being able to do up the button, (and being too long) they actually fit! This is a HUGE deal for me. Never in my wildest dreams would I think of being able to put on and pull up his jeans.
I gained about 30 pounds while I was pregnant, which to me wasn't bad. I didn't really change my eating habits, no crazy cravings except for red licorice and cucumber (and occasionally french fries with ice cream, but that started before I got pregnant). That's not too bad, right? However I wasn't exactly "healthy" before becoming pregnant. But after Thom was born (and I started losing weight right away), I knew I needed to take some kind of control to ensure success. So when a friend mentioned he was trying a "Low G.I. Diet", and then we found a book with that very title at my in-law's, I figured it was meant to be.
That was in October. It's now January, and I've lost 61 pounds so far! And the best part is that it's still dropping! Slower than before, but slow and steady. I have to be aware of what I eat. Mike is super supportive, he does most of the cooking, I just have to tell him what to make! He also tries to eat two servings of everything because he CAN'T afford to lose any weight, he's already so freaking skinny.
I still have my temptations (*cough*chocolate*cough), but I act reasonably and rationally. I also don't restrict myself to the point of deprivation, because that will just make me want it more! If I'm going to a birthday party, I'm gonna have a piece of cake! Thanksgiving came and went, (successfully) Christmas came and went (mostly successfully). But when holidays were over, I got back to eating regularly and so far so good. I imagine the summer will be hard (ice cream...) but it's also easier to keep doing the right thing when I know it's working.
It's a journey!
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