Archive for October 2011

Crash Course ~ Motherhood Part 2   Leave a comment

Continued….

As if the nausea isn’t enough. The accelerated pace in which our bodies transform from a once perfect figure into a baby manufacturing plant serves as yet another crash course lesson. To warn us of the future difficulty that mothers will endure concerning their physical appearance is the agenda. From pregnancy on, the battle begins. The continuous fight to find our pre pregnancy figure is a never ending battle. Our once active selves quickly discover that the fatigue from having children leaves little or no energy left that’s required to face the gym. The track to get to an 8am workout class while hauling toddlers and infants is like an obstacle course that serves as a sure deterrent. The thought of expending our precious last spec of energy on ourselves seems like, well, a waste of time.

Reality. The best thing to do for our children is to take good care of their mother. Its not a waste of time to put yourself first. Not all the time, as that isnt even possible under the role of “mom”. It’s not impossible to go against the need to settle in and accept the forever figure change. Many women will fight so hard that they will actually look better after the baby plant closes up shop. Kudos to them, superwoman. Added to the continuous list of top priorities, reserving time and energy for mom only should never be dismissed. It is imperative. Allowing time for mom to work on herself is only making mom…a better mom.

The swift kicks to a full bladder that make you pee your pants is training for the embarrassing and humbling moments ahead. Parenthood is surely a humbling experience like no other. The moments of being out to dinner and your child knocks over your full drink have happened to me so often that I learned a clean diaper soaks it up like a Majic trick. So, if you arent reluctant to grap one from the diaper bag, I highly suggest you give this one a try. Every waitress that has waited on my family has worked hard for her tip. Every dinner outing I’ve experienced with the children is enough work and sometimes embarrassment that I often choose to feed the zoo animals at home. The toddler that poops his pants in his new Thomas underpants, the tantrums, the sibling fights, the preschooler unwrapping goods that were not a planned purchase are all just a few of the millions of humbling moments. You get the point.

Our bodies are hijacked by pregnancy.
Moms have no choice, but to grin and bear it. An infant doing gymnast tricks at 2am keeping us awake and refusing to stop is another crash course for learning that children have their own set of plans. When the adorable toddler insists on wearing the old shoes that don’t match, or refuse to sit on Santas lap for a sentimental reminder of Christmas that year…..

To be continued….

Posted October 31, 2011 by Casey James Weekly in Parent category

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Crash Course ~ Motherhood Part 1   Leave a comment

The things we learn as moms in our moments of sheer desperation at times leave me astounded. Wearing the many hats that we wear, “momhood” is an educating experience that seems to have no text book available.

There is no manual written to fit the needs and quirks of each child. Parenting is like riding the quickest sharpest turning roller coaster…in the dark. The pitch black of night in order to eliminate any chance of preparation for each turn, downhill, uphill, sideways and jerkiest of rides. The bottom line is that our children must be taught everything.

Upon giving birth, us moms clock in for an overtime position in which a paycheck in the form of a happy and healthy child is the reason for our efforts. A child who develops properly, and becomes a productive member of society is the goal. There are several consuming aspects to accompany this goal, and they unfold as mom and child in a sense grow simultaneously.

For women, our jobs are taken seriously, and our diligent efforts begin as soon as we pee on the stick. That’s all it takes to jump start our maternal miracles.

Pregnancy is a training workshop. A 40 week crash course that literally strips you of your identity for life. Don’t worry, roles of mom, doctor, nurse, teacher, and more will provide endless options of identity than ever imagined. During this period that resembles a sophisticated boot camp, the selfless job of motherhood is ignited.

The nausea. Good thing it typically subsides by the 16th week. Four months of feeling like suddenly throwing up when the aroma of raw chicken passes by. The nausea is designed to enforce the fact that you will from that point forward endure the pain and unimaginable fatigue of taking care of an infant during your dose of the flu, a hangover, a cold, a killer headache, a broken bone…you get the point. The only regret or whining involved is the fact that the dads were never enrolled in this course. If so, it’s no secret they wouldn’t make it, and all fathers who have attempted to nurse an infant during their course of the flu would concur 🙂 stupid boys.

To be continued…

Fat Suit   6 comments

Would someone p u l e a s e unzip this fat suit, and let me out? It’s uncomfortable in here, and the fat roll that requires a special tuck when sitting down, has rapidly become a nuisance.

Too bad weight loss doesn’t occur overnight. I have endlesss amounts of willpower to last one entire day. Upon witnessing results, I will be more than motivated to keep up the good work. Aside from that, when I think of going back to the gym, I talk myself out of it as quickly as it cropped up. It’s easier to convince myself that I’ll save time, relax now, and go for a couch to 5K run later.

It’s no secret that “later” gradually transforms into “never.” As pure and promising as my efforts are, it does seem as if putting it off, yet thinking about it all day….well, counts for something. I’m so close to actually working out, yet closeness doesn’t burn calories. Almost going for a run doesn’t allow my britches to be an inch looser. It sucks.

There was a day when I was fit and trim, and it really wasn’t long ago. So what if I’m a little chubby? Food, especially my insane addiction to nachos, makes me happy. I suppose I prefer to lug around a few lbs and enjoy, over being scrawny and crabby. After all, I can pull off looking hot after three pregnancies and 12 years of marriage…when it’s required of me. That’s what I tell myself anyway.

I’m on strike against the gym. As a result of my last running round off in the backyard and landing square on the metal sprinkler, I twisted my knee. The fresh injury has bought me exercise excuses for a couple of months.

At what point will the destructive behavior of over eating and abstaining from exercise come to a halt? Don’t get me wrong, I am not a large person, but it doesnt matter what your size is when your clothes don’t fit. Thinner people are just as miserable when they can’t button their jeans. Tight pants are tight pants. They pinch you in half and truly make you feel like a sausage.

I hate winter, but I find myself welcoming cooler weather right now. No swim suits. No skinny tanks. No shorts. Hiding in my fat pants and cozy sweaters with a fat bowl of chili sound like vacation from weight worry. Just the kind of trip I need.

My favorite part is that my skinny mother has made the executive decision to help me get back to my “normal” weight. Her attempts to shove low fat organic foods down my throat are failing at a miserably accelerated pace. Upon discovering the 3 week old yogurt and endless amounts of hummus still sittin’ on the same shelf that she put them on in my fridge, she finally retrieved them. I’m grateful that I no longer stare at the organic diet crap that had the power to allow my guilt to grow.

I’ll get my game back on, just watch and see. When I do, and I’m back to stunning, the next person to act as if I was granted with a nice body as a result of my genetics or run of good luck may very well be the recipient of my weight loss rant. It would sound something like this “knock off all attempts to convince yourself that I have gotten off the hook. Genetics don’t make dietary choices or lift weights. I didn’t just get lucky at almost 40 to magically be in shape. I worked my freaking ass off (literally) for it. By your lame attempt to convince yourself that I’m lucky or have majic genetics, you are actually providing an excuse for yourself.”. When anybody kills themselves in the gym and refrains from comfort foods, they would look great too…

Maybe I sound a little bitter as I sit here in my fat pants. I have maintained a great figure my entire life through pregnancies and all. This last year or two…well, I’ve slipped. I refuse to disclose the amount I have gained, but I promise it won’t be around much longer. Wanna bet on it?

My Report Card (and Jakes)   4 comments

What just happened to me? I had to ask myself the entire way home from parent teacher conferences. I have never failed to mentally prepare for a conference with one of Jakes teachers since conferences began in preschool. Today, to explain that I was caught off guard is nothing but an understatement.

As the symptoms of ADHD have presented themselves more and more with each passing school year, I have continuously struggled with coaching teachers through methods and incentive ideas to help Jake. Frustrating in itself, as I am not nor have I ever claimed to be educated on ADHD children. Nonetheless, I am the mom, and he is my precious son that deserved a fighting chance to learn in the classroom.

The fear that a parent endures as they observe every aspect and struggles that are associated with ADHD is quite frankly excruciating. The hope and prayers that go into doctor visits are only a tiny piece of the enormous efforts that are involved with helping a child like Jake. Summer months were spent with trial and error medications until a concoction of drugs actually seemed to work without causing unmanageable side effects. A fair warning and a clear description of Jakes antics were mapped out for the third grade teacher, by me of course, and I’m quite positive that I scared the shit out of her. Well…had to warn her.

ADHD children often experience constant disapproval as a result of their high energy and lack of impulse control allowing unacceptable or difficult to manage behavior. Any measure of success is extremely helpful in balancing out the negativity that they are accustomed to.

Today I cried during conferences. I’ve never shed a tear to a teacher in my 8 years of full time work and few breaks with Jake. I had anticipated the typical conference today, and I didn’t fail to prepare.

I didn’t get the typical conference though, and I was left stunned as the third grade teacher handed me a white envelope. Finally. A reward. Jake scored higher than 93 percent of all third graders nationally on the ITBS standardized test. He was accepted into the enrichment program. It was my mom report card. It was my blue ribbon award for sticking with this kid and practically killing myself. For a moment, it made the last 8 years of struggles come down to one piece of paper. I got an A. Today anyway.

God please make this the beginning of many successes to come for Jake and grant me with a large dose of patience please.

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They call me MOM   1 comment

As I sleep hard through my 6am alarm, my day that should already have begun is off to a backwards start. Story of my life. It isn’t uncommon to feel like I’m a day late and a dollar short. With three young shorties, the hustle of the morning begins like a jack-rabbit taking off.

Mornings are typically consumed with tossing school uniforms (sometimes clean, sometimes not so clean) at my 8 & 9 year olds, while reiterating “brush your teeth and hair” like an old recording. Funny how each time I say it, it’s as if it’s the first time heard. I succeed at my attempt to stuff ritalin down my third graders throat, to ensure that the teachers don’t wanna stuff him in a closet as a result of his severely impulsive behavior.

During the race to the car this morning, Bella, the naughtiest of all naughty dogs, managed to make her way into the Odyssey. Well, naughty dogs don’t just get out of the van because you ask them to. My fear was that she would jump out during the 20 second opportunity at school while the shorties piled out. Because I was still wearing Jammie pants with one sock on and one sock off, the thought of allowing her to ride to school with us was a cringing one.

Naughty Bella, even with the tug of a leash, was more of a stubborn mule than a canine. My thoughts of chasing her through the school parking lot by my braless, t-shirt wearing, Jammie pant, missing one sock self, was a terrifying one. Nonetheless, so many minutes disappeared during our attempt to remove the mule, I was forced to give in or resign with another tardy and continue my fight.

The race to school began. Traffic, and several stoplights along my short jaunt slow us down immensely. Anybody that has had a dog ride shotgun knows that the car must not stop suddenly. With each quickly changing to red stoplight we encountered, naughty Bella was face planting the dash. Dog slober, added to the petrified chicken nuggets, melted crayons, and smashed skittles in the carpet of the car have transformed my once new minivan into a bacteria breeding ground. Thankfully, the shorties were dropped off successfully, and my frightening appearance wasn’t forced to be exposed.

To give me something to really look forward to, today is parent teacher conferences. Conferences suck. To ensure that they suck, the school makes this a half day. If you have perfect kids, and meeting with the teachers is fun and exciting for you, then the half day will be sure to spoil it. I am fortunate enough to have both.

Jake and his ADHD antics is as naughty as Bella. He is definitely a good looking child, and quite possibly his cuteness has kept me from killing him during his 8 years. I have high expectations of him one day as a result of my patient yet head banging efforts to ensure that one day he will become a productive member of society. He has no idea of these high expectations I have silently set for him, but after all he cant even stay on task to find his shoes much less put them on.

As you can see, my scheduled teacher conference with the third grade teacher will surely blow up the allowed 10 minutes, and I look forward to leaving as I predict there will be a line of impatient parents in the hall awaiting their turn with a teacher who will certainly be winded after talking with me.

God, please give me the strength and humor to endure the stories I will hear from Mrs. Elek today.

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Posted October 26, 2011 by Casey James Weekly in Parent category

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