diary of a mad fat woman

I know there are women out there who are naturally and beautifully skinny. I know that when they get pregnant and have babies they get that glow that you hear about. They can walk around the week before delivery looking like they swallowed a basketball, or sometimes even a volleyball. They wear their wedding rings to the hospital and their regular shoes and most people would not even notice their pregnancy at all. If you are one of those women, you can stop reading now.

I am not one of those women. I have never been able to wear my wedding ring into my last trimester. I have gained 54, 57, and 40 pounds with each pregnancy. I look like I swallowed a pilates ball. And I swell. My most recent pregnancy caused the most swelling. I bought shoes that were two and a half sizes larger than normal for me. I had no rings to fit. I could not even wear my watch. I know that I was very supersized and did not need to be reminded on a regular basis as I was--you may remember my post on things you should consider NOT saying to a pregnant woman. I lost 25 pounds after I had Megan, before I left the hospital. And not much since. I have not really actively been trying to lose the weight yet. And I am only 5'2". I know this.

I am breastfeeding. I will just tell you that my chest size causes some clothing issues. It makes any regular shirt too short on me so I realize I am still wearing a lot of my maternity shirts. But overall I am feeling so much better than I was before I had Megan and I am starting to take what little self-esteem I had left and pick it up off the floor and venture out in public again. Or at least I was. Until yesterday.

I passed someone in the hall at work, just going about my usual business. It was a girl I do not know well. I knew what department she was from but I did not know her name. So I was almost by her when I heard her say, "Still no baby, huh?" I looked around the empty hallway to discover it was just she and I and she was speaking. To. Me. I realize the Wii Fit told me I was obese but do I seriously look like I AM ABOUT TO GIVE BIRTH???

I promptly walked to her department to ask them if they could fire her, please. And I know her name now. And the diet is ON.

Happy Birthday, Madison!

This picture was taken this morning before school. Of my 7-YEAR-OLD! Today is the anniversary of my becoming a mom. Seven years ago today I had a horrific and excruciating c-section to cap off a day and a night of labor and anxiety. Kevin and I were scared to death. It was my most traumatizing delivery. It was my most emotional delivery. And it was the best thing that had ever happened to me. When it was all over they brought me the most beautiful baby I had ever seen in my life! And she was mine.

She is still beautiful. She is dramatic. She is independent. She is stubborn. She is full of love. She got out the sidewalk chalk a couple weeks ago. She drew a beautiful picture of our family in the sunshine with trees, flowers, and butterflies on our back steps, and she wrote on all of our stepping stones. She wrote,
"I love Mom."
"I love Dad."
"I love Jaron."
"I love Megan."
"I love my cat."
"I love God."
"I love nacher." (nature)
"Zoe is my friend."
"I love the world."
That's a lot of love. She loves earrings and animals and her bike and her family and her friends and swimming and shopping and the Wii. She has been the best big sister. She is protective and nurturing and breathtakingly gentle and sweet with Megan. Her vocabulary has always had a way of keeping me astounded and laughing on a regular basis. So what I am surprisingly saying is that I think this little girl is pretty special. Seven years ago today a mom was born. I am grateful for every memory of her and plan to cherish every new experience we share together. I make my own calendar for the house and on this month it has Madison's picture and it says, "Daughters are the flowers of life." She has been our bright and beautiful flower for seven wonderful years. Happy Birthday, Madison!

bye, baby, bye

Visiting a loved one in the nursing home is not the easiest thing to do. Grandad moved into the nursing home the week Megan was born. It is not the visiting itself that is difficult. Grandad likes not having to cook and seems to enjoy his new life and new friends. The first lady I met told me what a sweet gentleman he was. The difficult part is accepting how fast that sand seems to be flying through the hourglass and how quickly time is passing. When I think of Grandad, I still picture him holding the lawn chairs, waiting for Granny to get done talking so he can take her home from one of my ball games. I picture him just 10 years ago walking all over the farm and running and jumping around like he was decades younger. I picture him napping in the middle of Mom's living room floor after one of his hikes. At 91 he may have lost some of his agility, and he may be using a walker now, but Grandad is still the same Grandad. The visiting was not difficult. We discussed the weather, farming, fishing, Kevin's work, and how our new wood stove is working out. We discussed his "neighbors" and his brother and his health and the food. We discussed my work and he asked about the family. Grandad still has a very sharp memory. He still asks about all things outdoors. He still sings, "Bye, baby, bye, baby, bye," while rocking a new baby. He still gives hugs and kisses for hello and goodbye. His place of residence has changed. But he still walks me down the long hallway to the main front door, waits as I get in my vehicle and get buckled up, and waves with both hands as I drive away. The visiting was not difficult. I have to admit the driving away was.

She Completes Me

I hate to go all Jerry McGuire here. While I loved Tom Cruise at the time the movie came out, I was disappointed overall. There were only two things I really enjoyed about it. I loved the adorable performance by the little boy playing the stepson, and I appreciated a tearful Tom Cruise saying the famous line in a room full of man haters. Those were my favorite things. And that is how I feel about Megan. She completes me.

I am not saying she is my favorite child and the others are small potatoes. When my kids were born, they were each born into a different family. Each child has a different role and fills a different place in my heart. Before Madison was born, Kevin and I were high school sweethearts that had been married for a few years. Her birth instantly catapulted us from a young married couple to a family. My universe revolved around that baby. I told everyone that I could not believe how blessed I was to have given birth to the most beautiful baby I had ever seen in my life! I watched her for hours and marveled at the wonder of the miracle of her creation to the extent that Kevin began to question the dosage of my morphine. I could not help smiling. I remember being with my mom when someone asked if Madison was a good baby. My mom answered, "She seldom cries, but I don't think Valerie lets her cry!" I remember wondering why a mother would ever consider letting her baby cry? And since I was right there watching her every expression anyway, why not pick her up at the first little peep? I thought I could never love another person as much as I loved my firstborn baby girl without taking some love away from her. I was wrong.

I was unable to spend such lengthy interludes in admiration of Jaron's beauty following his birth into a family with a 25-month-old sister. One of my favorite things about Jaron is the fact that once he started to smile it seemed like he never stopped. And it is contagious. I never wanted to have an only child, so I relaxed and felt I had done my parental duty by making sure my children had a sibling. I remember the first time I saw my two children interact in the hospital. Madison, 2 years old, walked in and softly said, "Oh, baby brother." She touched her cheek to his and he squirmed in my arms from being disturbed. My breath caught in my throat. I did not want to interrupt. To this day I feel all warm and content every time I see my kids lovingly relating to each other. Like the first warm day in the Spring with the sun on my face, breathing in country air and a freshly mowed lawn. And that describes Jaron in a nutshell. A breath of fresh air. To this day when he enters the room I can't help smiling.

Megan was born to a slightly more laid back mom. I always felt like I would not be finished having babies until I had three. I know most people say in today's world that two kids are enough. I know many people feel if you can have a healthy boy and girl it is a good place to count your blessings and call it good. I know we are going to have five more years to pay a babysitter. I know she will require love and attention and money for the rest of my life. I know having her means Kevin and I are officially outnumbered by our children. But I needed her. As grateful as I have always been for my older kids and as much as I love them, I always had a slight feeling that something was missing in our family. I always knew that if I did not try to have just one more baby I would regret it later on in life. I felt like I would always wonder what our third child would have looked like. I would have wondered about her favorite foods and personality traits. I would have wondered about Jaron as a big brother. The first time we loaded up the van, complete with the infant seat and two booster seats, I thought for the first time that my entire family was together at last. And I could not help smiling.

I do not sleep much. My mom told me that bringing home the third baby was like bringing two kids home. She was right. My house gets messy. My laundry piles up. We don't always have a vegetable with dinner. But she is beyond worth it. And every person in my house gravitates toward this baby girl. Madison cannot function without knowing her exact whereabouts at all times. Jaron believes it is completely unacceptable to ever let her cry for a moment. Kevin is particularly proud of the way everyone comments on how strong they think she is. I am more content with my life, chaotic and sleepy as it may be, than I have ever been. Every member of my family loves Megan even more than I thought possible. She completes me. I think maybe she completes us all.

One of Those Days

From my title it could easily be assumed that this will be one of those "someone has a bad case of the Mondays and is grieving the rapid loss of yet another weekend" kind of posts. If that came to mind, you are forgetting that right now I am being paid my regular wages to stay home with my kids. Nothing can rain on that parade! What I have to say is the exact opposite of that.

Yesterday Madison told me, "Mom, I just don't know how we ever got along without Megan!" I had one of those days yesterday that made me wonder how I ever got along before I was a mother. How did I ever get along without Madison, Jaron, and Megan? What did I worry about? Dream about? Plan for? I have no idea. It is like my life is divided into two segments--before kids and after kids. I have no idea how I ever survived that first segment.

I had one of those days where I had to thank God for making me a mother. Repeatedly. Jaron, Megan, and I went to my work to visit and we ran a few errands. I decided we should take a Happy Meal picnic to the park. Taking my kids to the park is one of the simplest things in the world. All I have to do is say the word "playground" and Jaron illuminates like a Christmas tree. We can come and go as we please. And it is free. Why don't we go the park every single day of our parental lives? We had never gone to this particular playground and Jaron decided it was built especially for him. "You know why, Mom? Because it is dark blue! You know what's my favorite color, Mom? Dark blue! You know what, Mom? My baby sister can play on my playground when she is bigger. You know why, Mom? Because someday my baby sister will learn how to walk."

When I was little my mom asked me why I talked so much and I told her I just had a lot to say. While Jaron chattered and played and chattered and played I just sat there, holding my bundled up baby girl, and watched him. I found myself speechless. It was one of those days high up on my list of treasured memories. One of those days when my kids are still my biggest fans. One of those days where there is no room for worries about jobs or babysitters or housework or bills or the size of denim capri's I had to buy last week. There was only room for blissful contentment, gratitude, and happiness.

I read once that being a mom was like making the decision to let your heart walk around outside of your body. As I watched my heart go up the ladder and down the slide and up the ladder and down the slide and up the ladder and down the slide, I decided the one thing I know for sure about my life is that I was meant to be a mother. I also decided that this was one of those days worth blogging about.

Man of Leisure

I am down to two more weeks of maternity leave. I keep saying, "It is almost all over but the crying!" And I am not talking about Megan's tears. I wonder if anyone will be more upset about this change in our routine than Jaron. I am afraid I have created quite the man of leisure. When we first got home from the hospital with Megan, I started letting him stay up as late as he wanted. I am talking 11 o'clock or midnight. I mean, I was up anyway. I was either feeding the baby or pumping or taking pain meds or something. You mamas know the drill. Megan's biggest sleep windows were always during the day then. So Jaron would sleep until 10 in the morning, and after getting Madison on the bus at 7:30, so would I. We would have brunch. It was what I needed at the time or I would have never gotten any sleep in the daylight hours!

I did not realize how comfortable he had gotten at home until I realized that I had not seen him in actual clothes for a couple of days. I realized that 90% of the time that boy was either wearing his Spiderman costume or he was running around in his underwear. Sometimes he goes to sleep playing the Wii. One morning I found him playing the Wii as Spiderman before breakfast. And here I am, planning to send him off to kindergarten where routine is essential. I had to form a strategy. He likes to do flashcards to identify all the letters, shapes, and colors, but he has them all down so it does not take up much time. I recently got him a Spiderman workbook. We started having "homework time" where we have been practicing writing letters and drawing shapes. He is not always dressed for homework time. And he always wants to draw Spiderman webs when we are finished.

These last two weeks I am going to focus on homework time AND wearing clothes all day.

Historic Presentation

I always knew I wanted to try to scrapbook. I saved everything with the intentions of taking it up one day. I was not confident that I was artistic or crafty enough but I sure wanted to try it. I have always loved pictures. I am never going to be a seamstress or a painter. My attempts at crocheting were less than impressive and while I am capable of cross stitching, it will never be a passion of mine. When Jaron was 4 months old I went to my first scrapbook class/party hosted by a friend. I was amazed by all the tools. You do not have to be artistic, people. The tools do everything for you. Quickly, too. And it was a blast. And I was hooked. I made two pages in that hour. And I spent some money on those glorious necessities I got to play with that day.

I remember going to my mom's to pick up the kids afterwards and proudly presenting those first two pages to her. I remember announcing, "I am a scrapbooker!" I took those pages everywhere for weeks and showed them to anyone who would look at them. I was so shocked that I had actually done something creative. I now have many albums in progress: Madison's third album, Jaron's second album, a vacation album, Kevin's hunting and fishing album, a Christmas album, a sports album. I would like to do an album for Kevin and I but have not started it yet. I don't get to do it as often as I would like but I still love it. I love getting together with friends to preserve our memories together. It is fun to catch up through visiting and collectively poring over our pictures. I also love the end result. So I would like to present to you Megan's very first scrapbook page. And the birth of my album #10. At this time I will begin her training on looking at and smiling for the camera, or maybe we can start with waking up for photo opportunities. It is a process.