The #1 Situation to Keep Your Mouth Shut

I'm going to warn all readers now that this is a rant. I'm also going to be talking about some things that are hard to talk about and it is not my intention to insult, hurt, or burden. 

I am currently pregnant, due with my third boy in December. I don't like attention, especially when I'm pregnant, but somehow I am yet the blinding beacon wherever I go and all anyone can talk with me about is my pregnancy.

And I HATE IT!

There is so much more to me than motherhood and pregnancy. If there wasn't then I don't know how I ever made friends or met and married FATMAN before becoming a mother. I wish people would just stop seeing me as "pregnant" or "mother". 

Especially since people seem to think they can just say and do whatever they want without thinking about the hurt they may cause. There are many trials that pregnant women go through without anyone else's input or comments. (Then again we women in general go through so much without anyone else's input or comments, but that's a different post.) I've been holding in my anger, hurt, and frustration for far too long.

From the moment I found out I was pregnant, I yearned for a girl. Not because I'm already out numbered or because I want to do all the girly things (God knows I'm not that kind of female). I wanted a girl because I wanted something different. That's all. Just something a little different. So when I saw that baby #3 is a boy, yes, I was devastated and heartbroken, because I had let my hopes up. Later that same day, when I announced the gender, I can't tell you how many times people commented with "He will be just as loved." OF COURSE HE WILL BE LOVED! It's not like I'm going to give him away or get rid of him just because he's a boy! I prayed and prayed and prayed for this child for a year! A YEAR! My other two pregnancies happened so fast that I was starting to get scared that I wouldn't be able to have any more of my own. And that fear became even more so after I miscarried. So yes, he will be loved, but there was no need to say that. That comment (which I still get today) has hurt the most.

The other comment that has hurt more than others is "You can always try again" or "Your next one will be a girl." People hear me out hear me now: IF I get pregnant again is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! My sex life is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! Where your business and pregnancy are a common concern is with your own body. Stop meddling where you aren't to be meddling. Do you know how much heartache I went through month after month with each test? When you try for something and things don't go "according to plan," you get sad. When things don't go "according to plan" time and time again, you get depressed, angry, scared, anxious, worried, and, most of all, hurt. My heart broke each month when I was "late" and the test came back negative. I can not go through that heartache again. But me getting pregnant is NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS! So stay out of it!

"At least you're all set on clothes." No, actually. I'm not. For two main reasons. When we moved from Wyoming to Utah, we got rid of a lot of unnecessary items, including most baby items and clothes. We didn't need them at the time so we donated or sold what we weren't using to make room in the truck and to make more room in our new home. A lot of baby items are not collapsible and take up a lot of space that can be used more wisely, including boxes of baby clothes. Also, my other sons are summer babies. This one is going to be a winter baby. Even if I did still have all of those clothes, they would be the wrong kind. Too cold in the winter and too warm in the summer. 

There have also been so many comments on how tiny I am. Some of them have been made in awe, some in jealousy, but most in unbelief and almost concern. Yes, I have been able to stay fit and not put on as much weight (so far) in this pregnancy. I was in a musical this summer, starting rehearsals right after I got the positive tests. I was dancing, walking, and working out all summer (with caution). Even with my first pregnancy, I ballooned and looked pregnant from early on and put on a lot of weight. I am so happy and proud that I have been able to keep my weight gain under control this time around and that I am small. BUT what so many don't understand is that because I haven't put on as much weight this time around, I have other physical issues. My body hurts even more this pregnancy, because my belly is all baby and my belly is heavy. My belly pulls in all directions and hurts my ribs, hips, and back. It feels like I'm carrying around a 20 lb medicine ball all day, every day. I move slower and slower every day, it's hard to get up off the couch or a chair or out of bed, and I have the worse case of acid reflux. I had heart burn with my other two boys, but this is so much worse and it will only get worse until after the baby comes. 

And while we are talking about physical things, DO NOT TOUCH A PREGNANT BELLY! If you didn't put it there, you do not touch. Don't even ask. Don't even think about it. Just. Don't. It's awkward enough that we have to carry around this big heavy belly, don't make it more awkward by touching. 

Honestly, there is so much more I want to talk about but I feel like I'd get nowhere. Please keep all comments to yourself, even if they are well intended. You have no idea how your comment may come across because you don't know the whole story. 

One last topic. Pregnancy is a very touchy subject because so many women struggle. I am guilty of saying some thoughtless comments myself and I can't take them back. Before saying anything to anyone about pregnancy, miscarriage, abortion, fertility, etc., please stop and don't say it. Better to be a silent supporter or comforter, than one more person who said something without thinking. Every pregnancy is different. Every miscarriage is different. Every story is different. Don't assume that you know the right thing to say. 

Miracle Upon Miracle

I want to share a couple of stories, but I'm not exactly sure how to. And I'm not sure why. And I'm definitely shaking and crying as I do so. 

A month or so ago, I was driving home from my parents' house with my two boys. My husband was out with his siblings in an area that might have spotty cell phone service. I was 2 maybe 3 miles into my drive home, stopped at a red light when BAM! I was rear-ended. Honestly, it wasn't that bad. It took me a few seconds to even realize that I was the one who got hit. Even in my stupor of thought, I calmly turned on my hazard lights, pulled over to the curb, and got out to check out the damage. There was some scratched paint from the license plate holder of the guy who hit me. I took a deep breath and went to said guy and was able to calmly talk with him and get his info. He was apologizing every other sentence and kept saying it was his fault (which it was) and insisted that he pay for the damage. I did my best that it was only a few scratches and that we would most likely not press any charges. After getting his info (and telling him again that we wouldn't press charges), I got back into my car. I looked back at my boys. Kickboxer was asleep (which is normal for him in the car). Squid said his head hurt a little, but that he was going to be okay. Then I called FATMAN and I fell apart. I told him what had happened, that there wasn't any damage, and that I was mostly just shocked that it happened at all. But after talking to FATMAN I was able to calm down and make it the rest of the way home safely. 

Now, that may not seem like a miracle or anything special, but I say it is because of two things. When I was getting the boys into their car seats, I triple made sure that Kickboxer's straps were properly tight, even though it was hard because the straps kept getting caught under the cushions. I did that because I was prompted to. The guy who rear-ended me lives in Jackson Hole, WY. IF for any reason we did file a claim and IF for some reason his phone had been turned off, I had his address (verified from his ID) and knew exactly where it was, because I had lived in Jackson Hole for a couple of years. Those may be small, insignificant things, but to me, it made the whole event one big miracle. 

Today the boys and I joined FATMAN and his parents for lunch at one of our favorite restaurants. But we didn't go to the same location as we normally do and had to drive for a little bit. On the way home to my in laws' house, I got stuck behind a slower than the speed limit truck. I looked in all my mirrors and over my shoulder and saw an empty space in the lane over, put my blinker on for a few seconds, checked over my shoulder again, and merged. It was clear! I swear that it was clear. I shifted lanes and there was another car right next to me getting closer to me. I realized at the last second that I had made a mistake and corrected. I don't know if I over-corrected one way or the other, but I lost control. My steering wheel kept turning back and forth, causing my car to swerve back and forth. I started to panic and try to take control back again. I did everything I could remember from driver's ed. And then I pushed a little too hard on the brakes and spun. I did a complete 180 and stopped, facing oncoming highway traffic. I thought my life and my sons' lives were over. 

It is a HUGE miracle that I am here telling this story. It is a HUGE miracle that everyone around me saw me losing control and got out of the way, including the two cars right behind me that very quickly became right in front of me. They stopped with just enough room for me to turn around and get off the road into the median, out of the way of everyone. It is a HUGE miracle that NO ONE got hurt and NO ONE got hit.It is a miracle that there wasn't a drop off nor a ditch on that particular side of the highway. It is an even bigger miracle that I was the first to leave from lunch, because I was able to call my husband (who was in his work car) and tell him to pull over and stop when he got to me. My in laws saw me on the side of the road and also called my husband to have him stop and that they were going to turn around to come help if needed. I was a mess. I was shaking uncontrollably and bawling so hard I could barely see. When I saw my husband pulling up behind me, I slowly got out of the car and quickly, but cautiously, walked to him because I knew he would help. I didn't know how he could possibly help (because he had his own car to drive), but I knew he would.

I don't know how long I was on the side of the road. I don't know how long FATMAN just held me and told me that I did the right thing. Luckily, I was two exits, one and a half miles, away from a junction that would take me home a slower way. I was terrified to keep driving, especially on the highway, but I knew that I had to. After doing a full double check of my car and after FATMAN checked in on the boys for a second time, both of us got back into our cars and waited for an opening in traffic. I think the only thing that got me home was knowing that my husband was right behind me if I needed help again. (That and the fact that I was off the super fast highway and going slower.) I was terrified, but I did it anyway. 

Over 3 hours after getting to my in laws' house, I had to drive home to my house. It was just 5 exits on the highway. I was terrified, but I had to do it because there was no one else who would do it for me. After stopping for dinner shortly after leaving my in laws', it was time to get on the highway and brave the drive. I stayed in my lane (the right lane, except for exit only lanes) the entire time and stayed at or below speed limit. FATMAN was behind me in his car. After the first exit, I started to panic. I started to hyperventilate. But something came over me and I started saying to myself, "You can do this. You've got this. You have made this drive before and nothing has happened. FATMAN is right behind you if you need help or decide to exit early and take the long way home," over and over until my exit came. I looked 5 times before I got into the exit lane. I looked 6 times while shifting lanes to get to the light that would take me home. 

I'm only here today, writing this story because someone was watching out for me and helping me in unimaginable ways. 

It is safe to say that I am terrified of driving on highways right now. It is safe to say that for the next little while I will not be driving if I don't have to. But I know that one day, I will have to drive the highway again and I won't have any other option. And I will do it while scared, but I will do it. And I will be whole again, someday. 

Please, double and triple check while driving and don't get distracted by anything. 

Dear Bully

Dear bully, 

I'm sorry that you feel threatened by me. 
I am sorry that you blame me for a lot of your problems. 
I'm sorry that you think my life is perfect and yours isn't. (My life is far from ideal let alone perfect.)
I'm sorry that you don't feel comfortable coming to me about things I "have done" to you. 
I'm sorry you feel like I don't love you. 

But the fact is this: I don't love you. 
I don't even like you. 
But for the sake of many, I tolerate you and do my best to not cause more problems or hurt. 
When you are nearby, I paint on a smile and pretend that everything is fine. 

The truth: It's not fine. 
You have hurt me!
You have hurt my family!
You have taken too little time to get to know me.
You don't know who I am. 
You don't know my likes and dislikes. 
You just know the protector and defender side of me, which you call bullying and other names. 

I have tried to get to know you.
I have tried to be nice. 
I have come to events to support you and your family. 
I reached out to you when you were going through a hard time, but you turned me away.
I have even begged for your forgiveness for what I have done to you. 
I have forgiven you, even when you haven't apologized.

And yet, you still attack me.
You still call me names.
You still say I'm the reason for your hardship.
You still ignore me.
You still glare at me when we are together. 
You still talk about me behind my back as if I would never find out. 
You post about me on social media, thinking that because we aren't "friends" I won't hear about it. 
You still complain about me to your spouse. 
You still say that I am hurting you, even though I'm not doing anything. 

I'm sorry our relationship has become what it is now. 
I always hoped that we could lean on each other and help each other. 
I hoped that we would become sisters because I never had an older sister to help and guide me. 
I hoped that we would share favorite movies, books, music, clothes, etc. 
I hoped that we would have our kids grow up together and share funny stories later in life.  

But it is not to be.
Because you have hurt me and held onto a pointless, unhealthy grudge.

You probably will never see this.
But if you do, my wish is that you will let your hatred go. 
Let go of the hurt. 
Open up to me.
Be open up to the possibility that I'm not who you think I am in your mind.
I understand you are hurting and struggling. 
Let me help. 

I never meant to hurt you.
I still don't mean to hurt you.
But you have hurt me and continue to do so. 

And so I say, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry for you.

Sincerely,
Me

When a TV Show Speaks to You

Yesterday I was watching one of my new favorite shows on Netflix before my toddler woke up in the morning. The show is "One Day At a Time". It's about a Cuban-American family and their struggles. It's a comedy, but it also talks about serious issues seriously. Season two was recently added and I've been enjoying it just as much as season one. 

Then I watched Season 2 Episode 9 yesterday. 

It's been a long time since an episode of a TV show spoke to me and made me feel like it was talking about me. 

As I have talked about in the past, I have PTS from giving birth. I was put on medication to help. And it did help! Four months (or so) ago, my prescription ran out. And I chose not to renew it. The first month was the worse! I was irritated, felt sick, and emotional over everything all the time. Then my hormones seemed to balance out. 

But I'm still irritated all the time and a lot of days I just want to go back to bed. I don't want to do a lot of things that I used to do. I don't feel like a good mom because I feel like I'm always getting after them and not loving them as much as I should. I get mad at every small inconvenience or "stupid" or "wrong" thing my husband has done (or something he hasn't done that he "should have").  Basically, I feel like I'm more mad and frustrated with everything than happy and enjoying life. 

Season 2 Episode 9 is about PTS and going off medication (so she didn't have to keep it a secret anymore). The irritation, sickness, and lowness that Justina Machado portrayed is so true it hurts. Her character snapped and yelled at her best friend, stood up her boyfriend and his parents, and other things because she had gone off her medication and was reverting back to who she was before the meds and after her military service. 

It was an eye opener to me. Lately I've been wondering why I was so mad at my life and everyone in it. Yes there are those who have done or said something that is worthy of me being mad at, but my kids not getting along or not listening to me shouldn't make me see red every time. After thinking about it all day yesterday and sleeping on it, I think I need to talk to my doctor about going back on my meds. I don't want to be on them all the time, but one line that was said in the episode has stuck with me ever since I watched it: "[It's] something you don't want that you have to have for the rest of [your life]." I think I need help, even though I don't want it. 

I Made a Recipe!

I LOVE to bake! Especially during the holiday season where I can over bake and not have to worry about gaining weight because I just give them away. 😆

Anyway, joking aside, I usually don't experiment when baking. I stick to what the recipe says because I don't like to chance ruining anything. But for some strange reason that I am unaware of, I broke that rule! 😯 AND it worked!!! 

So now I want to share my recipe with you all! Please feel free to try it out for yourself and if you have any additions to add, comment with them below!

Chocolate Orange Cookies

1 Orange Cake Mix
1/3 C Cocoa Powder
Zest from 1 Large Orange
2 Eggs
1/2 C Vegetable Oil
1/2 C Mini Chocolate Chips (I didn't really measure out the chocolate chips so feel free to adjust as you see fit)

Instructions
-Preheat oven to 350 degrees and line cookie sheets with parchment paper.
-Sift together orange cake mix and cocoa powder together into a large bowl. 
-Add the orange zest.
-In a small bowl, crack your eggs and add vegetable oil. (I always crack eggs into a separate bowl in case I get egg shells in with my yolk, which happens a lot. Feel free to add eggs and oil into the large bowl if you are confident enough.) Add eggs and oil to large bowl. 
-Stir together until well combined. 
-Fold in mini chocolate chips
-Using a small cookie scoop (I use one that's about 1 1/2 TBSP big) drop dough onto cookie sheet about an inch apart.
-Bake cookies for about 5-8 minutes.
-Cool cookies on pan for 2-3 minutes and then remove to a cooling rack. 

ENJOY!!! 
Merry Christmas!

Who Rescued Who?

I know I haven't posted anything in a long time and that's because I don't have time to write.
I have a lot of different posts coming, it's just a matter of finding the time. 
Luckily, this morning I have some. 

A little over a month ago, my family and I adopted an elderly chihuahua.
She used to belong to an elderly woman. 
When this woman was put into a nursing home, Lucy was abandoned. 
She was later found by a great organization near me. 
I met Lucy in July at our local Petco and immediately fell in love with her. 
So I started saving so I could adopt her. 
My hope was that she would serve as a companion to me since FATMAN! works all day long and I still struggle with PTSD. 

In October, on my anniversary, Lucy became ours!
She has been an absolute blessing!
Every time I start having any kind of trouble, she comes over and lays next to me. 
If I don't immediately show her some attention, she forces herself onto my lap. 
Not only has she been a great companion and emotional support, the spirit she brings is calming as well. 
She's older so she mostly sleeps during the day, but she's always tentative and aware.

And the boys love her too. 

Every day I wonder what I did to be so blessed to have such an amazing spirit come and rescue me. 

To be Kind

I know people aren't perfect. 

I know people aren't perfect.

I know people are not perfect!!!

Do you understand that? Do you get it?

If not, please tell me how I can make you understand that I know people aren't perfect.

I am not perfect and I don't expect others to be perfect. 

I don't expect others to be perfect. 

I do not expect others to be perfect!

However, I do expect them to be KIND. 

The main reason why I don't like going to church is because people aren't KIND and loving.

In the Mormon church, we are taught from a very early age that we should be like Jesus. 

More specifically, we are taught to be kind to and love and accept everyone. 

So, why is it that some people who attend the Mormon church with feel like it is appropriate and okay to go up to someone and say mean, hurtful, and/or rude things about them to their face?

Or to speak up just loud enough for someone to hear when they are talking about that person behind their back?

Or to gossip about anyone at all, especially in the church to fellow church members about other church members?

Kindness is not earned. 

Kindness is expected of all of us. 

We should always be kind because you never know what the person you are talking to or about is going through. 

You don't know their battles, secret thoughts, struggles, etc. 

One mean comment could send them into a depression so deep they could end it all. 

One mean comment could be just the right trigger for suicide. 

One mean comment could be the last thing you say to that person because you just drove them away. 

I know we live in a world full of terror and awfulness. 

But we can change this world for the better with just being kind. 

Do one kind thing. 

Say one kind thing. 

Send a loving message to that one person you've been thinking about. 

All it takes is 30 seconds. 

And always remember: "If you can't say something nice, don't say nothin' at all." (Bambi)

I don't expect anyone to be perfect. 

I do expect people to be kind, especially those who call themselves Christians.

You do not need to be perfect to be kind. 

Early Morning Thoughts on the Couch

As I'm laying here on the couch early in the morning, yet again, all by myself, I can help but have the following thoughts:

I miss this. 
I miss being able to watch whatever I want whenever I want. 
I miss being able to wake up on my own without any crying or screaming.
I miss being able to do whatever I want whenever I want. 
I miss not worrying about two littles.
I miss not being in so much debt from creating littles that don't even look like me!
I miss being comfortable.
I miss sleeping the morning away.
I miss going to sleep at night and not being woken up by a little hand smacking my face.
I miss not being a mom.

But then I walk down the hall to wake up Squid. As I open the door and see that he's awake, I can't help but crawl into his tiny bed and snuggle with him as he tells me about his dreams and have the following thoughts:

I missed you.
I missed playing with you all day long. 
I missed helping you get food, get dressed, etc.
I missed holding you in my arms.
I missed telling stories with you.
I missed doing puzzles with you.
I missed chasing you around the couch/house just for fun.
I miss your brother Kickboxer.
I missed being a mom. 

Motherhood is so weird. You hate being a mom and being responsible for two littles and can't wait until they are in bed so you can have a minute to yourself. But as soon as you get a moment to yourself, you miss those littles and just want them with you all the time. 

I Don't Want to Go to Church

I want to start by saying that this isn't directed at anyone in particular. It's just something that I've been going through as of late and I can't hold it back any longer. If I offend anyone, that is absolutely not my intention. 

I hate going to church. Absolutely dread it every week. 

It's not that I don't believe, though I have my doubts and issues. I do believe in God and Jesus Christ and in the basic teachings of the church. There are some things that have changed over the years that I don't necessarily agree with and I have issues with them, but those aren't why I hate church. 

It's people. 

Most particularly, people who have been and are being taught to be Christ-like and loving no matter what and yet they aren't. People who don't think before they say something and offend or judge, unknowing to them. People who point out other's faults and become prideful over the fact that they don't have that fault and flaunt it. People who are total hypocrites! (I'm at fault at times here and I admit it.)

I go to church with a lot of older folk who are set in their ways and think that things are done one way or it's done wrong. Who aren't open to the possibility that there is a new way of doing things. Who think that whatever they have to say is more important than whatever is being discussed or taught, whether or not it pertains to the lesson. Their comments usually drive away the Spirit (at least for me) and are sometimes taken as offensive, even when it's not meant to be. Not all of the older folk in my ward are like this. There are some lovely adults who I look up to and love to hear what they have to say, but those people also think before they speak. 

Not saying that only the older folk are guilty of this. Sometimes the younger generations don't think before they speak either. There are times when the younger older adults (aka older than me) are trying to be helpful, but it doesn't come across that way. And there are often times when they will start an argument when there is no place for one. For example, I have mentioned in the past that I hate where I live and a handful of people overheard and took it upon themselves to defend the city and basically tell me that I'm an awful person for even thinking otherwise. I have stopped talking about the town whenever I'm at church and church functions because of that. 

But the worse part of church? The fact that hardly any of the parents take responsibility for their children and do what should be done, especially during sacrament meeting, the most important part of going to church. There just doesn't seem to be any common sense or claim when it comes to being a parent these days. Kids are running around like crazy, talking/screaming when the rest of us are trying to be reverent, sickness spreading like a plague!, and what are the parents doing? Nothing. They are sitting and ignoring their kids so that they can focus on the talk or lesson. They are not taking their child out of the room. They are not taking responsibility for the actions of their child. And they are relying on other adults or their older kids to take care of the younger ones, which makes matters worse. I'm trying to raise my kids to be respectful, decent human beings and it's hard for me to do that when they see every other kid acting out and not being disciplined. 

Then there are the leaders and teachers who don't do their callings (I'm guilty of this too at times, but I try my best). Teachers who aren't ready to teach, who don't seem to care. Leaders who don't know how to teach. Leaders who go say one thing one week and then another another week (or worse, in the same day). Teachers who don't do anything but just read the lesson word for word because that's what they think teaching is or don't care to take the time to plan. Leaders who are socially awkward and know it but don't change anything. If you are supposed to be someone who is supposed to lead, someone who people are supposed to look to, you should act like it. 

Then there are the people who believe that everyone else's business is their business too and they need to step in. Or they "self-appoint" themselves to do a certain role or task. That's not how the church works! If you haven't been asked to do a certain job or calling, DON'T DO IT! You are causing more problems than solving any. The church is organized in a way that works and helps, but when people stick their noses where they shouldn't be, the organization of the church tumbles and people suffer. 

Church should be a refuge from the storm and problems of the world (or something like that). But what happens when going to church leaves you feeling worse than before you went to church that morning (or afternoon)? What happens when going to church, that teaches to "love one another," leaves you feeling hurt and unloved most weeks? What happens when you dread going to church because you know there is a very high chance that you will have to interact with the same person who made an offending comment the week before? What ever happened to "If you don't have nothing nice to say, don't say nothing at all"? Did no one else ever see Bambi? What happens when I am told that I am in the wrong when I haven't done anything at all? This is the situation that I am in. I've been in this situation for a while and I've been in it before. I grew up in a ward very similar to my current ward and I hated it then too, but I didn't have a choice then. It just about drove me away. 

So, if I hate it so much, why do I keep going? At first, because it's what I was supposed to do. I was trying to "fake it 'til you make it." But that didn't help and I just hated it more and more as the weeks went on. Now I go because I'm scared of what my family and friends will think if they found out I stopped going. I suffer because I'm afraid of my family's judgment. I suffer in silence (until I get home) every week because I don't know what else to do. 

To end on a good note, there are a handful of people (some of them kids) who I call my friend and I love seeing them during the three hours every week because they make it just a little bit more bearable. But, unfortunately, it's not enough to relieve the pain I suffer. 

Today I Am Grateful

I'm grateful that I have a moment to sit down and write.

After a very frightening call from FATMAN!, I've been thinking a lot about all of the things I have and how grateful I am for everything.

I'd like to share some of those things with you.

I am grateful for my home and its roof that protects my head.

I am grateful for the food that I have and the nutrition it provides.

I'm grateful for my clothes that keep me warm.

I am grateful for my husband and for all that he does for me and my boys.

I am so very grateful for my boys and for the wonderful blessing that I get to be a mom.

I am grateful for my boys's smiles, laughter, and sense of wonderment.

I'm grateful for toys for me, FATMAN!, and the boys.

I'm grateful for a wonderful loving family who are always there for me when I need them.

I'm grateful for great friends to talk to and learn from.

I am grateful for my education and for the resources I have to learn more if I want to.

I am grateful for technology and being able to keep in contact with family and friends who live back home and elsewhere.

I am grateful for my imagination.

I am grateful for my many talents and for the chances I get to share them with others.

I'm grateful for art because it beautifies my home.

I'm grateful for an amazing credit union who has our back and catches problems before they become disastrous.

I'm grateful for books, music, and movies to keep Squid and myself entertained.

I'm grateful for Jamberry.

And as much as I hate it, I am grateful for the snow that has fallen to make the coming summer easier.

There are so many other things that I am grateful for, but if I don't stop now, I may not ever stop. There are so many good things in life. All we have to do is look.

Dear Lady Who Skinny Shamed Me

The other day I was out in public and was stopped by a women who said, "There's something wrong here." I looked around to make sure I had everything and I could see nothing "wrong". After I looked back at her confused, she continued and said, "You shouldn't look that good right after giving birth. It's just not right." She may have meant it as a compliment, but it sure as heck did not come across as one. She was not the first to comment on how well I look but the way that she said it left me feeling sick and frustrated.



Dear lady who skinny shamed me, 

Thank you for noticing me and feeling like you needed to make a comment. However, what you said was a harsh, back-handed compliment and you should have thought about what you said before saying it. 

There is nothing "wrong" with me. So what if I've lost almost all of the baby weight two months after giving birth? What business is it of yours? 

You have no idea what I felt like when I was pregnant. You have no idea how uncomfortable I was in my pregnant body. You have no idea how much I am negative about my appearance, especially during and after pregnancy. 

Did you know that I had no tearing during delivery? Did you know I was given permission by my doctor to start working out as soon as I felt up to it? No, you didn't! Why? Because you didn't ask how I was. You didn't even sign up or offer to help me after I got home from the hospital. In fact, all you have said to me after delivery is that there is "something wrong" with how good I look after delivery. 

About 90% of the weight I gained while pregnant was all baby. I got sick with food poisoning about halfway through my pregnancy and lost a lot of the extra weight I had gained at that point. Then afterwards, I tried to eat healthy and do whatever exercise I could manage to help me not gain too much weight. So after delivery, I didn't have a ton of weight to lose, mostly just loose skin to tighten. After a few weeks, I was finally getting the energy to work out and Kickboxer was on a schedule where I found the time to get in a ten minute work out and start feeling more comfortable in my skin again. 

I'm still not where I want to be. I still have a pouch. I can still see many of my stretch marks. My butt and thighs are bigger than I wish they were. I have love handles. And I still have loose skin. But I am working on it, because I want to feel like me again. I want to feel comfortable in my body again. 

I'm not working out because I am vain. I'm not working out for my husband. I'm working out for me. I want to better myself. And if wanting to better myself and feel comfortable is what's "wrong" with me, you need to reevaluate your life and what you think "right" and "wrong" is. 

So, thank you for noticing me, but no thank you.

Sincerely, 
Sarah

Today Was a Bad Day

Today was a bad day.

Today I almost didn't get out of bed.

Today I yelled at my kids.
Today I was exhausted beyond belief from lack of sleep.

Today I sat on the couch and played on my phone.

Today I didn't want to hold my baby.

Today I had thoughts that I am ashamed of.

Today I didn't care if my toddler threw a fit.

Today I just let my baby scream.

Today I wanted nothing more than to just go back to bed.

Today I felt nothing.

Today I felt anger.

Today I just wanted to scream.
Today I have barely eaten.

Today I didn't want to be a mom.

Today I wanted my old life.

Today I wanted to run away.

Today I hid myself.

Today I didn't care about anything.

Today I cried.

Today my demons got the better of me.

Today was a bad day.

But tomorrow is a new day!

Tomorrow I have the chance to be better than I was today.

Tomorrow can be completely different.

Tomorrow hasn't been stained with negativity yet.

Tomorrow is a clean slate.

Tomorrow is a new chance.

Tomorrow could be a good day.

Tomorrow could be a great day!

Tomorrow I could defeat my demons.

Tomorrow I could be happy.

Tomorrow is a new day.

As you know, I recently gave birth to my second son. And as many of you know, with my first son I got hit with a mild case of postpartum depression when he turned 8 months old. I wish I could say the same thing again, but I'd be lying. This time around it's hit me much earlier and harder. But this time around I have gotten help sooner. I still have my bad days, but I can handle them a little bit easier. I just have to keep reminding myself that if today is a bad day, if yesterday was a bad day, if I've had many bad days in a row, tomorrow is a new day to try again. 

A Blessing Amid Chaos

Baby Kickboxer has made his debut! He's about three weeks old and FATMAN! and I are absolutely in love with him. Though he has warmed up to a baby being in the house, Squid still doesn't fully know what to think about Kickboxer or being a big brother. 

But the way that Kickboxer made his debut is one for the books. If I hadn't been there and witnessed it myself, I wouldn't believe it happened like this. 

First, a little back story: My labor and delivery with the Squid was quite easy, typical, and had very little problems. I was able to labor through the contractions with breathing techniques and relaxing in the tub. I did not get an epidural (but I was asking for it at the end when it was too late). I had to have my waters broken by the doctor. Squid decided to start coming before I was fully dilated and I ended up pushing for two hours. I tore a little bit and needed 4 stitches. For it being my first labor and delivery, it was good and much better than I expected it to be. 

My labor and delivery with Kickboxer was completely different. It was hard. It was ugly. 
My water broke at 3 am when I rolled over in bed after FATMAN! bumped me when he rolled over. I immediately sat up getting my bed all wet and woke FATMAN! up then jumped to action to get everything together and ready to go to the hospital. As soon as the sitter arrived to stay with Squid until my parents arrived, FATMAN! and I were off. 

As soon as we got to my room and somewhat settled, I was told my water had indeed broken (they tested just to be sure) and that I was only dilated 1 cm. It was going to be a while before Kickboxer arrived. Both FATMAN! and I did our best to relax and rest while contractions started and progressed. By the time the nurses rotated 3 hours after we arrived, I was dilated to 3 cm and my contractions were all over the place.

My new nurse suggested I lay on my side to help move contractions along. So I did... and my contractions sure did come closer together, but they also became more and more intense as time passed. I did my best to manage the pain, but as time went on and my contractions became unbearable, I started to cry and started to ask for an epidural, which I had planned on not doing. After about an hour and a half of crying and asking but being torn with making a final decision, I gave in and told FATMAN! that I wanted an epidural. Which was perfect timing because my nurse had just come in to check on things again. I told the nurse my decision and after checking the progress (I was dilated to 5 cm), she went and got the anesthesiologist. He was super nice and quite funny. It took about 20 minutes for the epidural to start working, but once it kicked in and my pain started to subside, FATMAN! left to get lunch and I rested. Within an hour, I was starting to feel much better and fell asleep for about an hour. 

The next few hours were quite uneventful. FATMAN! and I sat and laid around watching TV and checked in with my parents who had come up to help with the Squid. Progression had slowed so I was put on oxytocin around 3:30-ish and I was rolled onto my side yet again. Nearing the end of labor, I started feeling pressure from my contractions and a kick here and there from Kickboxer, but other than that, nothing exciting happened. 

And then at about 5:20 (I honestly don't know, I'm guesstimating) I felt this odd feeling near my hip. The best way I can explain it is that it felt like a fluttery kick (when you first start feeling your baby moving around inside you at the beginning of pregnancy). I thought it was odd, but didn't think anything else about it. Then I felt the exact same thing a minute later.... then thirty seconds later. It was after that third time that I told FATMAN! to go get my nurse. Instead of doing what I said, he came to the other side of my bed to check on my contractions on the monitor. When he saw that nothing was wrong, he turned towards the door and saw a bulge under the sheet that wasn't quite right. He said something to the effect of "He's here" and ran out the door. I immediately threw back the sheet just in time to see Kickboxer's butt and legs emerge. At that sight I was overcome with many emotions: relief that it was finally over, happiness that I didn't have to push at all let alone two hours, fear because he was bluer than Squid when he was born and the umbilical cord was wrapped around his body (and the sheet didn't clear his head), and awe and wonderment (possibly a little shock). 

My nurse, the baby nurse, and an extra nurse all came rushing in with FATMAN! at the caboose. A fourth nurse went to the room next to mine to get my doctor (who didn't believe at first that I had delivered without his assistance) and he came in a minute later. While one nurse was taking care of Kickboxer and another one was taking care of me, my doctor, FATMAN!, and I were trying to figure out what had happened. My doctor has the theory that Kickboxer was in a bad position all during labor and then he finally rolled over and just slid right now. At the same time as we were discussing the miracle, I was waiting to hear my son cry. It must have only been about a minute, but it felt like forever to me. The nurse said that he had extra fluid in his passageways and that was what caused him to have a hard time breathing at first. Still the pediatrician put us on house arrest for a few days because of it. But as soon as he did cry, my fear subsided and I was so happy to know that my son was healthy. 

It's been an interesting and rough three weeks since then. Kids change everything. When one of those kids is a terrible two and the other is a newborn, hardly anything stays clean or gets done all at once, especially now that FATMAN! is back to his normal work schedule. I manage. Some days I go to bed tired and weary. Other days I go to bed exhausted because I've been up since before the sun with no break or rest. Some days I wonder why I even wanted children in the first place. And then Squid says the cutest thing and Kickboxer smiles while sleeping in my arms. It's the small things that make it worth all the crazy and stressful times. 

I Wish...

I wish I could go back to simpler times.
When I didn't have to worry about what time it was and when I need to feed the Squid next.
When I didn't have to worry about keeping an entire house clean, but only a room. 
When I wasn't changing diapers and clothing (Squid's and mine) constantly. 
When I didn't have to juggle a wiggly baby. 
When I didn't have to worry about how much food I am producing. 
When I could go to the bathroom exactly when I need instead of waiting until Squid is content. 
When love was young and innocent and silly. 
When I only had to pack for one instead of two.
When there were inside jokes.
When I only needed my keys, wallet, phone, pants. 
When I had a job that I loved and looked forward to. 
When there were movie nights. 
When there were spontaneous hang outs.
When there was The Chronicles of Starnia. 
When there were friends who were my age.
When those friends were going through the same thing I was.
When I could call someone up and immediately jump in the car and go hang out. 
When I didn't have to constantly worry about money. 
When I could be a kid even though I was a teenager because I didn't care. 
When I didn't have to wonder who my friends were. 
When there was always a furry happy pup waiting for me at home. 
When friends would call up and say, "Let's go do something!" and I could.
When I didn't have to pack a diaper bag before leaving the house. 
When my arms, shoulders, and back didn't hurt all the time. 
When we went to the park at 10:00 at night and threw our cares away. 
When I didn't have to always bite my tongue.
When dates were just plain fun instead of long, intricate planning to make it perfect. 
When I could take my time getting up in the morning. 
When I could read any time I wanted because I had the time. 
When I didn't have to worry about compromise or sacrifice. 
When I wasn't so angry or frustrated all the time. 
When I didn't have melt downs because I didn't feel noticed. 
When I didn't always have doubt. 
When I didn't have so much responsibility. 
Can we go back to those times?

"Beauty and the Clockwork Beast" Book Review

"Jane Eyre meets Beauty and the Beast in a Steampunk Proper Romance"

(From the backcover of the book)

One of my favorite things to do is to read, but since I became a mother over two years ago, I find it hard to find time to read. And then I find it even harder to find a book that I like enough to read all the way through to the end. That definitely was not the case with Beauty and the Clockwork Beast by Nancy Campbell Allen. I made time to read, read when I knew that Squid was occupied enough, and read every night before going to sleep. To put it simply: I COULDN'T PUT THIS BOOK DOWN!!!

Let's start with a little back story: On August 4th I received and email from Deseret Bookshelf (like I do often) with the above description as the subject line. I immediately opened it and read the following synopsis: 

When Lucy Pickett arrives at Blackwell Manor to tend to her ailing cousin, Kate, she finds more than she bargained for. A restless ghost roams the hallways, werewolves have been reported in the area, and vampires luck across the Scottish boarder. 

Lord Miles himself is clearly hiding a secret. He is brash and inhospitable and does not take kindly to visitors - even one as smart and attractive as Miss Pickett. He is unsettled by the mysterious deaths of his new wife, Clara, and his sister, Marie. Could Miles himself be to blame for their deaths?

Working together, Miles and Lucy attempt to restore peace to Blackwell Manor. But can Lucy solve the mystery of Miles? Can she love the man - beast and all?

Talk about an attention grabber! I then read it aloud to FATMAN! who also took immediate interest. There's just one thing that held us both back... it's a romance novel. I loathe romance novels (and movies), unless they are romantic comedies. I have always thought that romance novels give a false illusion as to what love is and have always steered away from them. But I kept reading the synopsis over and over again and finally made a decision that if I ever got the chance, I would buy a copy and at least give it a chance. Two days later I found myself in Deseret Book searching for the book, opening it to the middle to test the writing style of Nancy Campbell Allen (I haven't read anything else by her), and rushing to the counter to buy it. I then read the first chapter aloud on the trip home. I would have read more but my throat had started to get rough and I was running out of water. I read a couple of more chapters and then had to put the book on pause when the last of the N.E.R.D.S. book came in special order through the library. BUT as soon as I finished N.E.R.D.S., I immediately jumped back into Beauty and the Clockwork Beast.

I honestly don't even know where to begin! I LOVE this book! I love everything about it, even the romance. There's supernatural elements, Steampunk technology and fashion (which I'm starting to get into), two murder mysteries to solve (yes, that's a small spoiler), and action! Oh my goodness, I was happily surprised at the little bit of action that was in it. But what I think I love the most are the two main characters, Lucy Pickett and Lord Miles Blake, and the transition they make from being so independent to needing to rely on each other and the vulnerability and frustration that comes with feeling true love, despite obvious flaws. 

I love that this book is a "proper romance" and that it's very clean in general. There's no sex, no descriptive nudity (but nudity is mentioned in general when absolutely necessary), there is one very mild swear word, and there's no rude or vulgar jokes, stories, sayings of any kind at all from any of the characters. This is a truly clean and proper romance novel, even if the romance part of it is not the forefront of the story. 

The mystery and supernatural elements are the biggest part of the book and that's what really drew me in and made me want to keep reading even when I had responsibilities to tend to, Little Bug to take care of, needed sleep, etc. It really was a sacrifice and took a great amount of effort for me to tear myself away from the book to go do things. I had to keep it in the other room (out of sight, out of mind) to keep myself from reading all day long. Ghosts, werewolves, vampires, and mediums are everywhere you turn while reading. And I like the take on vampires that Nancy Campbell Allen writes. Vampires being able to walk and live among regular people with help from an illegal medicine. They can turn into mists of black and travel quickly. They have a great ability of strength and to see in the dark. The werewolves she describes are just as impressive with their heightened senses, even in human form, the build and strength of the creatures, even the personalities of the creatures in wolf and human forms and how they relate to each other. But wait until you meet the ghost who is haunting Blackwell Manor! Oh, the description, the horror, the excitement!

I think I'm going to stop here because I feel like if I keep going, I will spoil everything. A small word of caution: this book is a little intense. If you don't like being sucked in and wondering in excitement and (a little bit of) fear, DO NOT pick up this book! I guarantee that your interest will be grabbed and held onto until you finish the last word. I highly recommend Beauty and the Clockwork Beast by Nancy Campbell Allen to anyone who loves a good book. If I didn't already have another book in my possession lined up to read next (and FATMAN! didn't want to read it), I would have immediately flipped back to the beginning and started it all over in a heartbeat.

And I haven't even mentioned the amazing Steampunk technology and fashion. I just love the detail that is given for the different outfits, transportation, and tools.