"To Fat for Prom"

            I  hate shopping. I hate HATE shopping - unless it's for shoes (but that's another story).  It started when I was a kid and my mom would list all the types of clothes I was too fat for. I was taller and thicker than most kids my age but I wasn't even chubby.  It got worse as I got older and got into high school.  I was too "fat" for a two piece bathing suit and too "fat" to go to prom.  I was too fat for skirts and dresses with belts and shorts......The thing was, I wasn't.  I was 5'4" 138lbs and a size 8.  My mother would sigh and say, "At least you have baby making hips. Some guy is really going to appreciate that about you and you guys will have tons of babies." That is such a mean thing to tell a young girl barely into puberty!  I've grown a little since then and I've lost 20lbs. I now wear a size 2 or a 4 depending on the store.  Shopping should be fun now but it's not.
       
             My sister is getting married so I need a new dress.  Hubby kept the kids and I took the day to go to the mall.  I was afraid to try on dresses that might make my legs look chunky or that would make my hips look too big. I was afraid to try on dresses that would flare at the waist.  I spent four and a half hours shopping, I only tried on three dresses and I hated how I looked in all of them.  By the time I got home I was depressed, stressed and had a raging headache.  I told Hubby I'm just wearing my black dress that I've had for years and that I feel comfortable in (but I'm getting new boots to wear with it!). 

            It shouldn't still be like this. I know I'm thin. When I wear clothes I already own I feel great; but, when I go shopping, I suddenly fall back into the same feelings I had as a kid and I hear my mothers voice in my head again.  The logic is all there: she was wrong then, it certainly isn't true now yet, I can't shake it.  Hubby wants to take me dress shopping (I usually only clothes shop if he takes/makes me).  He shouldn't have to make me shop (seriously, how twisted is this?)

            I'm working on getting over this. I can't undo the hurt that was done to me but I can make sure not to repeat it.  I'm working on not doing this to my own daughter.  I will always tell her how beautiful she is - even when her body is changing from a little girl's to an awkward teen's. I will always tell her how amazing she is no matter her size or shape.  I will always tell her how pretty I think I am and let her see my self confidence.  I want her to LOVE to shop - because she knows how great her own unique body is.

Cutting Faces

Halloween is this weekend. The kids are very excited. The front of our house is all decorated and last night it was finally time to carve the pumpkins.  When I was a new mom I did the pumpkin by myself. Hubby didn't want to help and the baby couldn't. For the first three years this is how it was. Then the boys started to be old enough and instead of the mess of trying to carve with them I let them paint pumpkins instead.  They never looked like faces, just like globs of black paint from too many colors being mixed together and smeared everywhere.  Two years ago we didn't get big pumpkins we got three little ones. They all painted their little pumpkins and for the first time they actually had discernible faces.  Last year with all the moving going on we bought one big pumpkin but never actually carved it.  This year we went to a farm and picked our pumpkins ourselves.  Last night we all worked together like a well oiled machine each taking a part in the process. I cut off the tops, Hubby scooped and the kids designed faces (that I carved to their exact specifications), We knocked them out really quickly.  It was so much fun and so stress free. It was yet another reminder that time is passing and my babies are growing up before my eyes.  The era of paint slapped onto a pumpkin with little hands is gone. The era of having to do it all myself has come to an end. As much as it annoyed me to display pumpkins that looked diseased, I miss that time. When Halloween meant I had holiday coloring pages covering every spare space of wall and the scariest thing they wanted to be was a lion or a police man. I have no coloring pictures and my ceramic ghosts go un-played with this year. I will be taking a vampire, a zombie and Boba Fett out this weekend. This year my home has three jack-o-lanterns that look amazing.  As cool as they are, they annoy me.  They are a glowing reminder of what I have lost forever. A little poke to the heart that I may not have enjoyed that time as much as I could have.  I feel this overwhelming desire to hit rewind or at least pause so I can keep them younger just a little bit longer. I love these guys. I know it, they know it. It's just a little weird to feel it so strongly while cutting faces.

They are among us.......

Many people think superheroes don't exist.  These people are wrong. Super Heroes are amung us. I am living proof. I am a superhero.

I have speed. I am able to clean, do laundry, rake, walk dogs, etc and yet still pull a sheet of homemade cut out sugar cookies out of the oven as the kids walk in the door for them to ice for Halloween all before I start dinner.

I have healing powers.  A splinter, a scratch, a scraped knee? These have no power against me.  With a gentle touch, a band-aid and a kiss I can heal.

I can read minds. I know if a playroom wasn't cleaned just by looking at their face. I know if home work was left undone without having to ask. I know if someone was picking a fight with a sibling.  I know. I can read minds.

Some of you may argue that I'm just a mom. I disagree. Just as Spider Man's body was altered on a DNA level, mine was as well. This anomoly is called pregnancy. I did not have these powers before that strange event. The truth is -  I Am ~ A Super Hero! The truth is, some of you may be super heroes too...............

Come Home and Stay

I have two dogs. My female is four years old, 45lbs and the sweetest dog anyone could ever hope for. My male will be one this winter and though he is a puppy with all that that implies he is a sweetheart and we love him.  The female is "my" dog and the pup is my husbands. This was not by design but rather by the dogs choosing. 
Titonius is suppose to be 25lbs but he is only 15lbs. I don't know why but I've nicknamed him Boo much to Hubby's dismay. He is a boy-boy. Loves to fight, play and run. He throws the ball for himself and will threaten anyone who dares come to our door. He has recently gotten the hang of the school bus hours. 10 - 15 minutes before the bus shows up he is looking out the window for it. Once the boys start to leave he begs them not to go and then runs from window to door for a good 20 minutes hoping they are coming right back. Then the pre-k bus comes and we go through all this again ending with a walk through the house wimpering. And when it is time for that bus to bring the boys home in the afternoon? He is at the window a half hour prior wining at any bus that passes. He is so excited everytime they walk through that door. Dogs are smart creatures and it is so cool to watch him look for that bus KNOWING it is coming. Thank you for loving our boys Titon.

Princess is a girl all-the-way. My daughter can put bracelets, hairbands and necklaces on her and she likes it! She would rather hang with the girls than rough house with the boys. She even likes to get her claws painted. As much as she loves playing with my daughter she is MY dog.

Last night my little girl wanted Princess to sleep with her. Normally Princess is where ever I am so I wasn't sure how this would work but I told her to get on the bed. My little girl wrapped her arms around Princess' neck and settled in for sleep. Princess was fine with this until she realized that I was leaving the room. With a hand on her side I asked her to STAY. She wasn't happy but she did it and she didn't move until two hours later when Hubby and I were getting ready for bed. He called the dogs to go outside one last time. Princess didn't come but I heard her whimper. I went up to the room, she was waiting for me to tell her she could leave and go outside.  This made my eyes well up. Knowing that my girl loves me so much is pretty special but knowing that she will stay by my children if I need her to is a much more powerful gift. Thank you Princess for all you give me.

I'm 5. No Really I Am

My youngest child, my daughter, just turned five.  For her birthday we took her out to eat. While there she and I made a trip to the washroom. My daughter is very happy to be five. She thinks she is soooooo BIG! And discussing her age in the washroom prompts a question; How old am I?

I tell her since I think I'm still pretty young - I'm still in my twenties after all. She, on the other hand, is SHOCKED by my "oldness". She thinks I must be making it up. Our conversation goes like this:

"No you're not. You can't be. That's so OLD!"
"I really am. And, that's not that old."
"Well, maybe you're not that old. Maybe your eight. Eight is old."
"I'm not eight. Your brother is eight. I can't be the same age as my son."
"You should tell people you are eight. Don't tell them you are so old. It's kind of, uhm, gross."
"I'm not telling people I'm eight."
"I don't have a sister. You should be my sister. Tell people you are five like me. They will think we are  sisters."
"FIVE!?!?"
(In a sing-song voice) "sista-as"
"Sure. I'll tell people I'm five. They'll believe it."
"Say it. Say sista-as."
"Sista-as"
"Yup. We are sisters and we are both five. Come on. Let's go tell people."
Back at the table.....
(To Hubby) "Daddy. Mommy is now my sister. We are both five."
(Hubby to me. With a very shocked look) "Really? You're five now, huh?"
(Daughter to waitress) "My Mom is my sister. We are both five."
Waitress does not look convinced. Actually, she looks a little worried.
I just smile sweetly.

I'm five. No really. I am.

Shotgun in hand............

I'm afraid to knock on my neighbor's doors.  I know they are waiting for me shotgun in hand.  They know why I am knocking. I want their money, every last dollar I can wring from them.  I will take it all with a smile on my face trying to convince them they want me to have it. It's fundraiser time.

The football and cheerleaders are selling raffle tickets (this means I have to sell twice as many). The cub scouts are selling popcorn tins (Again, I have two in scouts).  The school sent them home telling them to get pledges for sports day (that's three kids needing pledges) and, this means I don't even have anything to give to these poor people! Dance is selling candles. It doesn't end!  

I don't want to go to the store for fear I will see a familiar face ducking down the cereal isle. I walk my dogs with head bowed as neighbors peak behind curtains with baited breathe praying I'll pass.  My texts asking to meet for a coffee go unanswered - they think it a ploy. 

I can't really blame them. I'd avoid me too. I'm done. I quit. When it comes to fundraising I will never be the "perfect" mom and my kids will never win a prize for most earned. But I might need to put out a white flag announcing my surrender, my withdrawal from the fundraiser race. Because the next time I need to borrow an egg I don't want to be met by a suspicious neighbor, shotgun in hand...........

Let's Face It, You're A Little Doughy

          We were sitting on the couch yesterday evening prior to going to the gym and we were talking about Hubby changing up his workout. Our daughter who was in the room turns to Hubby and says, "Let's face it, you're a little doughy." This just cracked me up much to the dismay of Hubby. The truth is, he isn't. He is a very solid 235lbs.  He's not extremely cut up but even through a shirt you can see he is all muscle. I discovered later that it was a line from the Hannah Montana show.  This isn't the first time she has thrown lines from a show at us. And each time it seems to be a perfect fit to the situation.  Last spring when my allergies were bad she told me, "zip it drippy, no one cares" (also a line from Hannah Montana).  For the amount of TV shows on we don't let them watch all that many, Wizards of Waverly Place, Phineas and Ferb, Hannah Montana, Sweet Life on Deck and Scooby-Doo about sum it up. I confess to being a fan of Wizards and Phineas and Ferb myself.  We are so busy that they don't watch these all that often yet it apears that when we do it is making an impression. Enough of one at least for her to remember lines and use them in the correct context later on.  It makes me wonder just how much kids are picking up from TV and video games and, well, life.