One of the many struggles us moms tend to have is finding the time to get ourselves into shape. Most days it simply seems like there isn't enough time, other days you don't have enough energy, and far too often your children need a plethora of things ranging from a new diaper to a popsicle... that being said we are also just bad ass enough to be able to manage it.
Since I recently reached my 6 week postpartum mark, which most of you may know means you can enjoy sex again (and exercise) I decided to pick up a workout routine and get my body back in shape. Nine months of general laziness and ice cream cravings tend to make your ass a little flat and your stomach a little loose... of course then there's that whole pushing a big headed human out of your body thing. In any case, I, like many other stay at home parents, have found myself using home workout programs, previously my favorite has been P90X, currently I am working on the Brazil Butt Lift. Nothing gets me more pumped than a shiny Brazillian man who can shake his sculpted butt better than I can.
I had first started my workout routine with the idea that I would do yoga every day and not just yoga, but P90X yoga! That ish is NO JOKE, but I love yoga and that particular workout is amazing. Well, someone forgot to tell me that after having kid number 2 it wouldn't be as easy to jump right back into exercise as it was after the having first one; I was all over the place both physically and mentally.
I roll out my pink yoga mat, put on my tennis shoes, and start the warm up breathing. After all, part of the success with yoga is clearing of your mind. I am on my third breath when Ava starts to shout "LET A GOOOO! LET A GOOOO! EEYYAAAAUHHHGAAOOOAA SKYYYYYYY!!". *Dear Frozen, thank you.*
Obviously the whole "clear your mind thing" is not going to work out for me today, anyway, I make my way to the Plank position which is like getting put on pause at the top of doing a push up. Hold that pose for a good 30 seconds and you will be sweating. Guess who thinks I am playing some kind of new game and hops right onto my back like a baby gorilla?! It FELT like a baby gorilla and my abs experienced a whole new meaning to word "feel the burn". Next is the Downward Dog, the most recognized yoga position where you basically make a triangle by putting your butt up, face and heels down. As I'm focusing my breathing so I can push my heels down further, Ava pops her little face into my face and starts giggling hilariously. I can't help but to laugh a bit myself despite my growing frustration. I managed to make it through a few more poses, each more difficult than the last, before Lela wakes up to eat and I completely give up on the hope of getting a full workout in.
The next day I ended up with a Charlie Horse on one of my rib muscles (which is just as painful as it sounds) and came to the conclusion that yoga everyday is not in the stars for me. Switched to the Brazil Butt Lift so I can get more leeway in a shorter period of time. This tactic has been better for me but still not completely effective because my children have a sensor in their head that allows them to need EVERYTHING as soon as I put in the workout DVD. I haven't worked out in about 3 days because after an hour and a half of starting and stopping it's easy to become discouraged.
Honestly, I have a whole new respect for the stereotype that stay at home moms get fat. It is brutal trying to workout with your kids around. Can be done, but it's a process.
I am determined. Like I said, we are bad ass enough to manage it....
Friday, June 20, 2014
Saturday, June 7, 2014
YOLO
If you read my last post you know I had a pretty dramatic experience with my oldest Ava getting sick, well my youngest Lela got sick as well and we had an almost equally dramatic experience. This post is not about her being sick though, it's actually about the way I was treated when we went into the ER.
First, as many may gather, I am what you would consider a "young mother" part of the "who likes condoms?" species, under the "I was young and dumb, he was cute and dumber" genus, closely related to the "we have been married for a month so let's have a baby" genus.
Despite the way, the who, or the when of how I became a mother I feel like I have done a pretty damn good job of raising my kids and maintaining my household. That being said, let's move on to the delightful nurses and doctor that decided to use their medical school degrees to evaluate me as a mother based on my lack of life experience. It may be irrelevant how other people think of me but this is something that boils my blood.
So it's 10-11 pm and my two year old hasn't stopped crying since we got to the room in the ER, my other daughter is screaming because the nurses are repetitively stabbing at her for an unnecessary IV that they eventually gave up on. It is officially the second time within a week that I find myself in the hospital only I don't have my adoring husband with me (he is in the field). I am NOT in a good mood.
At this point I have already had Nurse A make remarks about how I was handling my melting down toddler, the doctor has reminded me in only the most condescending way possible that "an infant with a fever is an EMERGENCY situation" as if we weren't standing in an exam room in THE ER, and thye are telling me they need to do an (also unnecessary) spinal tap on Lela, when all of a sudden Nurse B (for Bitch) asks me "What's wrong with her?" looking at Ava like she smelled her own asshole, so I plainly told her that it is well past her bedtime and she doesn't want to be here.
"Well, you don't look like you want to be here either." she says, as she stares at me like I am a whining 10 year old brat.
.........................................................
so I spelled it out for her, since she clearly needed me to, "No, I don't."
"Well, young lady, we have to take care of your baby!!!!"
I was so far done....
About 20 minutes after this altercation, Nurse A-hole comes into the room right after they took Lela out for an x-ray and all I can think is "fuuuuuu, she is about to give me a speech about being a mom"
and that is what she did, starting with "Are you feelin' overwhelmed?" and finishing with "you're young and I know it's hard, but it will get easier..."
You would of thought I was the first person in history to walk into the ER in the middle of the night with a sick baby and screaming kid not thinking to put a sweet little smile on my oh so young face.
Can you catch the point of the story?
Why does everyone look at young mothers and automatically think they are in over their head and therefore need guidance, it's like there are old lady Yoda's lurking in the dark corners of all grocery stores, hospitals, and restaurants waiting for your child to misbehave so that they may use The Force on your ego (and patience) to remind you of your age.
I can remember after finding out I was pregnant with Ava when i was 19, being told that I should give her up for adoption because I had my whole life ahead of me and that I would miss out on so many experiences... I was literally told that I should shed my responsibility so that I could go have "fun".
Let me just say that having been married twice, traveling across Europe, or even simply going to college can not prep you on how to change a diaper, teach a child some manners, and generally keep them alive until they can do it themselves. Bringing another life into the world can come at any time and no matter what over priced book you have read, you will not be prepared and I will bet any amount of money that a 30 year old first timer who had all kinds of "life experiences" would be just as nervous as I was when I was a 19 year old first timer.
This has turned into a rant.
So, rant over I suppose.
First, as many may gather, I am what you would consider a "young mother" part of the "who likes condoms?" species, under the "I was young and dumb, he was cute and dumber" genus, closely related to the "we have been married for a month so let's have a baby" genus.
Despite the way, the who, or the when of how I became a mother I feel like I have done a pretty damn good job of raising my kids and maintaining my household. That being said, let's move on to the delightful nurses and doctor that decided to use their medical school degrees to evaluate me as a mother based on my lack of life experience. It may be irrelevant how other people think of me but this is something that boils my blood.
So it's 10-11 pm and my two year old hasn't stopped crying since we got to the room in the ER, my other daughter is screaming because the nurses are repetitively stabbing at her for an unnecessary IV that they eventually gave up on. It is officially the second time within a week that I find myself in the hospital only I don't have my adoring husband with me (he is in the field). I am NOT in a good mood.
At this point I have already had Nurse A make remarks about how I was handling my melting down toddler, the doctor has reminded me in only the most condescending way possible that "an infant with a fever is an EMERGENCY situation" as if we weren't standing in an exam room in THE ER, and thye are telling me they need to do an (also unnecessary) spinal tap on Lela, when all of a sudden Nurse B (for Bitch) asks me "What's wrong with her?" looking at Ava like she smelled her own asshole, so I plainly told her that it is well past her bedtime and she doesn't want to be here.
"Well, you don't look like you want to be here either." she says, as she stares at me like I am a whining 10 year old brat.
.........................................................
so I spelled it out for her, since she clearly needed me to, "No, I don't."
"Well, young lady, we have to take care of your baby!!!!"
I was so far done....
About 20 minutes after this altercation, Nurse A-hole comes into the room right after they took Lela out for an x-ray and all I can think is "fuuuuuu, she is about to give me a speech about being a mom"
and that is what she did, starting with "Are you feelin' overwhelmed?" and finishing with "you're young and I know it's hard, but it will get easier..."
You would of thought I was the first person in history to walk into the ER in the middle of the night with a sick baby and screaming kid not thinking to put a sweet little smile on my oh so young face.
Can you catch the point of the story?Why does everyone look at young mothers and automatically think they are in over their head and therefore need guidance, it's like there are old lady Yoda's lurking in the dark corners of all grocery stores, hospitals, and restaurants waiting for your child to misbehave so that they may use The Force on your ego (and patience) to remind you of your age.
I can remember after finding out I was pregnant with Ava when i was 19, being told that I should give her up for adoption because I had my whole life ahead of me and that I would miss out on so many experiences... I was literally told that I should shed my responsibility so that I could go have "fun".
Let me just say that having been married twice, traveling across Europe, or even simply going to college can not prep you on how to change a diaper, teach a child some manners, and generally keep them alive until they can do it themselves. Bringing another life into the world can come at any time and no matter what over priced book you have read, you will not be prepared and I will bet any amount of money that a 30 year old first timer who had all kinds of "life experiences" would be just as nervous as I was when I was a 19 year old first timer.
This has turned into a rant.
So, rant over I suppose.
Thursday, June 5, 2014
Viruses are nasty SOB's
So this week was a first for me as a parent. I learned that there are some things that just come with the territory of being, not just a mom, but a parent in general. Both of my kids ended up with a nasty nasty virus. My oldest, Ava had it the worst and I swear she got it from the McDonald's play place. Before you judge me for taking my kid to McDonald's, that play place is awesome for play dates (if you can get over the stench of rubber, grease, and little kid sweat) it's cheap, there are plenty of other kids to entertain your kid for you, and you don't have to follow them around awkwardly trying to prevent them from falling....but that's a whole other blog post.
This virus that Ava had was just horrific. 4 days of pure hell for my child.
The very first thing I learned when I woke up that night to find vomit covering Ava and her bed is that only an ever doting mother could calm and clean their little one, put them back to a fresh bed, and then do it all over again 30 minutes later with a smile on her face. After the second time I realized I was NOT going to be getting sleep. Reminded me of some of the blurry and drunken nights in college that involved holding someones hair and telling them between their hysteric sobs that everything would be okay; this time, though, instead of Black Eyed Peas it was Veggie Tales in the background.
Over the next 36 hours I found myself cleaning various fluids from different parts of the house....carpet, couch, kitchen.... but surely enough she started to seem okay. Well Kenny and I had been invited to a free couples retreat with childcare and everything! We figured "f%*k it!" and went. Everything went okay enough until breakfast the next morning. Kenny had taken Ava out of the banquet hall because she became a bit fussy...about 5 minutes later some old woman is asking for me to come in the hallway. When I got to her she starts hurrying me towards our room and tells me that Ava was having a seizure. Did I freak out? uh, yea! I mean wouldn't you?
When we got to Kenny and Ava it was like walking into the first 5 minutes of the show House, you know where they have a dramatic scene of something medically effed up happening to some unsuspecting soul.... he was on the phone, two or maybe three cleaning ladies were standing near by whispering, another woman was checking for Ava's pulse and the whole time she was just lying there...so peacefully you would of thought she was simply taking a little nap. Lesson number two? Do not panic. You don't have time to panic. So naturally I called my mommy real quick.Within minutes the paramedics were carrying Ava out in their arms like she was a wounded puppy and we clambered into the ambulance.
Now is it just me or does anyone else ever get the urge to punch a nurse in the mouth? mmm, maybe it's just me but it tends to happen when they cheerfully let you know they will be restraining your terrified toddler so they may try and get an IV. I can think of nothing less fun than holding your kid still while strangers are sticking them over and over again. Lesson three... allow yourself 5 minutes of mental break down. Thankfully this is where Kenny stepped in and I stepped out. I couldn't watch anymore after they failed the first time and said they needed to do it again on the other arm. Before I get a bunch of hate about this bit, let me just say that I know it is their job, I know that no one wants to purposefully put a child through pain but it's like anything else... just because it is someone's job to serve you with lawsuit papers doesn't mean you are excited about the happy demeanor in which they do so. Or the sales clerk who smiles at you as they let you know you have been declined for a store credit card. These people who are lightheartedly doing their jobs while you are going through an embarrassing, terrifying, or angering situation most absolutely bring on the urge to punch in the mouth.
Eventually things evened out and their explanation for what happened was that it was a mere virus, gave us a pamphlet, then sent us on our way. A fairly anticlimactic end to an emotional day. Lesson four: doctors will NEVER give us the answers we want.
Ava stayed sick the rest of that day as well as the next. I ended up with a minor version of what she had, mostly fever with crazy bad migraine and guess who didn't give two shits? My kids. Final lesson, there is no such thing as "sick days" in motherhood.
This virus that Ava had was just horrific. 4 days of pure hell for my child.
The very first thing I learned when I woke up that night to find vomit covering Ava and her bed is that only an ever doting mother could calm and clean their little one, put them back to a fresh bed, and then do it all over again 30 minutes later with a smile on her face. After the second time I realized I was NOT going to be getting sleep. Reminded me of some of the blurry and drunken nights in college that involved holding someones hair and telling them between their hysteric sobs that everything would be okay; this time, though, instead of Black Eyed Peas it was Veggie Tales in the background. Over the next 36 hours I found myself cleaning various fluids from different parts of the house....carpet, couch, kitchen.... but surely enough she started to seem okay. Well Kenny and I had been invited to a free couples retreat with childcare and everything! We figured "f%*k it!" and went. Everything went okay enough until breakfast the next morning. Kenny had taken Ava out of the banquet hall because she became a bit fussy...about 5 minutes later some old woman is asking for me to come in the hallway. When I got to her she starts hurrying me towards our room and tells me that Ava was having a seizure. Did I freak out? uh, yea! I mean wouldn't you?
When we got to Kenny and Ava it was like walking into the first 5 minutes of the show House, you know where they have a dramatic scene of something medically effed up happening to some unsuspecting soul.... he was on the phone, two or maybe three cleaning ladies were standing near by whispering, another woman was checking for Ava's pulse and the whole time she was just lying there...so peacefully you would of thought she was simply taking a little nap. Lesson number two? Do not panic. You don't have time to panic. So naturally I called my mommy real quick.Within minutes the paramedics were carrying Ava out in their arms like she was a wounded puppy and we clambered into the ambulance.
Now is it just me or does anyone else ever get the urge to punch a nurse in the mouth? mmm, maybe it's just me but it tends to happen when they cheerfully let you know they will be restraining your terrified toddler so they may try and get an IV. I can think of nothing less fun than holding your kid still while strangers are sticking them over and over again. Lesson three... allow yourself 5 minutes of mental break down. Thankfully this is where Kenny stepped in and I stepped out. I couldn't watch anymore after they failed the first time and said they needed to do it again on the other arm. Before I get a bunch of hate about this bit, let me just say that I know it is their job, I know that no one wants to purposefully put a child through pain but it's like anything else... just because it is someone's job to serve you with lawsuit papers doesn't mean you are excited about the happy demeanor in which they do so. Or the sales clerk who smiles at you as they let you know you have been declined for a store credit card. These people who are lightheartedly doing their jobs while you are going through an embarrassing, terrifying, or angering situation most absolutely bring on the urge to punch in the mouth.
Eventually things evened out and their explanation for what happened was that it was a mere virus, gave us a pamphlet, then sent us on our way. A fairly anticlimactic end to an emotional day. Lesson four: doctors will NEVER give us the answers we want.
Ava stayed sick the rest of that day as well as the next. I ended up with a minor version of what she had, mostly fever with crazy bad migraine and guess who didn't give two shits? My kids. Final lesson, there is no such thing as "sick days" in motherhood.
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
To Start...
There is so much controversy about choosing to be a "house wife". There are stigmas held over house wives as well as positive credits to house wives. Everyone seems to be unsure of how exactly they feel about it... Well this blog is not about how everyone feels about it. It's not going to map out the many ways a house wife is working more than the average full time employee and it certainly won't glorify the odd jobs/errands/general things involved. No, this blog is simply about the situations I have found myself in as well as how I have felt about them (and likely so have most of my fellow HW's) and some cheats/shortcuts to making the odd jobs/errands/general things involved much simpler.
In case you were wondering about my street cred.... hmm, well I have none, BUT, I have been a house wife (or HW for short) and stay at home mom (or SHM) to two little ones for about 2 years. It's not a lot of time but I have figured out that in order to make it big in this business you have to be a fast learner. I am also a military spouse *yey for stereotypes*.
I started this blog because of Facebook... (say what?!)
Yes, Facebook. There are tons of FB pages/support groups created for millions of different purposes, the ones I became interested in were for SHM's and HW's, specifically military spouses. Progressively I discovered that there are a lot of women who post to those pages who fully and unforgiving-ly live up to the stigmas attached to not only SHM's but military spouses in general. Even more so the women can be so unsupportive of each other. So basically the biggest reason I wanted to start this blog is because there are so many things we all think but are too scared/guilty/any other adjective to say and I have every intention of saying them.
Now, for my first post in this blog let's talk mildly about our role in the home. I recently became "un-pregnant" with our beautiful second daughter Lela and boy has my world flipped upside down. Not simply because I am now taking care of 3 babies (husband included) but because of how quickly my husband, Kenny, re-assumed his role of the ever lazy stereotype associated with the "bread winner" of the family. Man, before when I was big and wobbly, like a penguin but less cute, Kenny was ON IT! Never did I ever have to ask him to take out the trash and he even did the dishes every now and then. *bliss* But as soon as this child was out of my body and into our arms it was as if in his eyes I was now capable of doing anything and everything again. Lesson? Enjoy it while it lasts. At first I was angry. Why should I have to do everything...and I mean EVERYTHING?! Now I realize that it is just way easier, faster, and overall more efficient to just do...everything; I am like the Chuck Norris of unemployed Americans. But not just me, most SHM's/HW's are! I don't know about other people but Kenny is the type of husband that needs a detail by detail list...hm, no, Power Point presentation when being instructed to do annnnnything. I mean he has asked me (on several occasions) how much water to put in the pot for boiling eggs......................
I love him very much, but, bless his little heart.
I have to admit it is exhausting making 3 square meals a day (not including snacks), socializing your children through the excrutiatingly awkward world of playdates, keeping your house generally livable, attempting (however feebly) to look somewhat presentable, and chauffeuring to all appointments/necessary shopping...to name a few things. Sometimes it's not worth it. Sometimes it feels like I am a servant to a house of selfish, ungrateful, lunatics whose only purpose in life is to give me things to clean; but when it doesn't feel like that, it feels pretty damn awesome to know that I am the key factor that keeps this household functioning. Like I said, Chuck Norris....
*stay tuned*
In case you were wondering about my street cred.... hmm, well I have none, BUT, I have been a house wife (or HW for short) and stay at home mom (or SHM) to two little ones for about 2 years. It's not a lot of time but I have figured out that in order to make it big in this business you have to be a fast learner. I am also a military spouse *yey for stereotypes*.
I started this blog because of Facebook... (say what?!)
Yes, Facebook. There are tons of FB pages/support groups created for millions of different purposes, the ones I became interested in were for SHM's and HW's, specifically military spouses. Progressively I discovered that there are a lot of women who post to those pages who fully and unforgiving-ly live up to the stigmas attached to not only SHM's but military spouses in general. Even more so the women can be so unsupportive of each other. So basically the biggest reason I wanted to start this blog is because there are so many things we all think but are too scared/guilty/any other adjective to say and I have every intention of saying them.
Now, for my first post in this blog let's talk mildly about our role in the home. I recently became "un-pregnant" with our beautiful second daughter Lela and boy has my world flipped upside down. Not simply because I am now taking care of 3 babies (husband included) but because of how quickly my husband, Kenny, re-assumed his role of the ever lazy stereotype associated with the "bread winner" of the family. Man, before when I was big and wobbly, like a penguin but less cute, Kenny was ON IT! Never did I ever have to ask him to take out the trash and he even did the dishes every now and then. *bliss* But as soon as this child was out of my body and into our arms it was as if in his eyes I was now capable of doing anything and everything again. Lesson? Enjoy it while it lasts. At first I was angry. Why should I have to do everything...and I mean EVERYTHING?! Now I realize that it is just way easier, faster, and overall more efficient to just do...everything; I am like the Chuck Norris of unemployed Americans. But not just me, most SHM's/HW's are! I don't know about other people but Kenny is the type of husband that needs a detail by detail list...hm, no, Power Point presentation when being instructed to do annnnnything. I mean he has asked me (on several occasions) how much water to put in the pot for boiling eggs......................
I love him very much, but, bless his little heart.
I have to admit it is exhausting making 3 square meals a day (not including snacks), socializing your children through the excrutiatingly awkward world of playdates, keeping your house generally livable, attempting (however feebly) to look somewhat presentable, and chauffeuring to all appointments/necessary shopping...to name a few things. Sometimes it's not worth it. Sometimes it feels like I am a servant to a house of selfish, ungrateful, lunatics whose only purpose in life is to give me things to clean; but when it doesn't feel like that, it feels pretty damn awesome to know that I am the key factor that keeps this household functioning. Like I said, Chuck Norris....
*stay tuned*
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