Wake me when September ends!

Well, this has been a heck of a week so far. Thank goodness for midway points cuz some weeks I need the encouragement of knowing I'm halfway done! Sunday nite was a blog all its own and Monday nite was Open House at the school. I'll spare most of the gorey details but let's just say I left feeling like I should have been awarded an "I attended Open House and SURVIVED" tee shirt. It's so hard to be a mom. I mean, I KNEW it was gonna be, even at 16 when I got pregnant, but man, I never knew that the word "hard" could hold so many different connotations.

It's physically hard: My body has never been the same since my uterus was first invaded. Sick, tired...no tired doesn't begin to touch it, DRAINED, stretched, bloated, hyper-sensitive. I could smell things a blood hound would've missed...and most of them made me throw up. I kept waiting for the "glow" but all I got were some record breaking zits. My hair and nails did seem to grow faster but the pounds I was rapidly packing on somehow outweighed those attributes and my back protested loudly and often to having to carry the extra load. And this was all PRE-delivery... There wasn't much hope for my boobs ever being the same again even before I delivered but I knew it for sure by the third morning after! It's comical now but it definately was NOT at the time. I bawled. Which brings me to...

It's emotionally hard: It's scary finding out you're about to bring forth life. Even when it's planned, the awesome responsibility of what is taking place within you can be overwhelming at times. I know I had several unexplainable meltdowns. I also found that the slightest things could annoy me to the point of rage. Somedays, all it took was a glimpse of my ballooning figure in a store front window to bring on the tears followed by a mad fit and a promise to never TOUCH another sancho (yeah, right). I know there were happy times too but from high to low and back again seemed to come hard and fast. It was emotional whiplash.

It's mentally hard: I'm a person who could think herself to death if it were possible. I go over every possible scenario with a fine toothed comb. I couldn't sleep for all the thoughts; "Will I be a good mother and what if I'm not?" "Can I love a child like it needs to be loved?"" What if I can't and I screw it up beyond repair?" "What if it hates me?" "What if I hate it?" "What will it look like?" "What if I have an ugly baby?" "How bad is this gonna hurt?" "What if I die?" The thoughts did not stop...I existed exhausted; physically, emotionally, and mentally.

All these years later, two more pregnancies and deliveries under my belt, I know now that was only the beginning of understanding what "worn out" means. There are days when I'd give my left arm for all three of them to be back in the womb...the other days, I'd give my right one. That was the easy part...they were tucked away safe and sound. Now I have these walking, talking, back-talking little beings with minds and voices all their own living in this great big world. It requires constant alert...it's 24/7 with no vacation or sick leave, it's exhaustion blown up, in every possible sense. I'll not even go into the huge responsibility that lies on our shoulders. That's a whole other blog.

Reminds me of a movie I just watched. One dad-to-be asks another dad, "What's it like...bein' a dad?" The guy answers, "It's awful. Awful, awful, awful, AWFUL...and then, something wonderful happens and it makes it all worth it."

Things don't always go my way...I hate such things.

I was given a good reminder last night of why you should really think about what you say and even after you've thought about it, you should really decide if it needs to be said at all. (Are there enough "really"s in there to stress my point??) Let's see, words can be: twisted, misunderstood, misrepresented, misconstrued, misinterpreted, embellished, you name it. If it can go wrong, it will. But wait! It gets even better; beyond the normal miscommunication problems of life, you've got "pot stirrers" to deal with; those individuals in the world who are just not happy unless they are causing strife for someone else. What I released as (admittedly) careless talk ended up being someone else's malicious ammunition. It's now been nearly a year since a young lady has spoken to me after a pretty explosive confrontation about what she was told I had said about her. I saw her last night for the first time since the "ordeal"...scratch that, she saw ME for the first time since then. I've seen her once, but I stayed back. Sometimes in not knowing how to fix what's gone so horribly wrong, I avoid the situation totally. (I never once claimed to be brave.) But, there she was, there I was and there was no denying we'd seen each other but still, I was at a loss on how to deal.

What was told to her went beyond twisted embellishment, it was an all out lie, plain and simple. And although, I do feel that I owe this girl an apology for the part I played in hurting her by even opening my mouth to begin with, I did NOT say the things she accused me of saying. Quite honestly, I am offended by the accusation but even more so by her blatant refusal to even hear the truth and well, when I get offended (translation: when my feelings get stomped on) I tend to take a Stonehenge position. I will not bend, sway, or even budge to try to make things right. I have a stubborn streak that is at least a mile wide. Unfortunately, my daughter has inherited it. She was ready to deal last night, once and for all....with fists....at church. This stupid thing has affected my entire family and it brings out some less than admirable behavior.

I had decided that if our paths crossed on my way back out to my car, I was going to simply tell her that I was sorry and leave it at that. I lost her in the crowd of people, I even walked back thru one more time looking for her...I never saw her again. I still don't know how to make things right. I don't even know if I can make things right at this point. What I want to know is why it bothers me so badly that things aren't right. I tried, I told the truth. Does my responsibility end there or DO I owe her an apology for even saying what I did say, even if it was said innocently? Had I never said it at all, this mess would never have happened. Relationships...who needs em anyway??? :)

I dunno...truth is, I'd do anything to make things right because that's just how I am. I hate hurting people's feelings...okay, unless I'm in a fit of rage then I usually don't hate hurting anyone until the next day or so. Typically tho, it tears me up until I've made things right, even if it requires jumping thru flaming hoops or my own butt. I'm thinkin', tho, this is where I learn that sometimes, you just can't make things okay again. There are two minds, two wills, and two sets of emotions involved here and I can't make her decide to believe me or forgive me for hurting her and that's that. So, I give....for now anyway. Life just gets way too complicated when people are involved.

I tried a new thing...

I attempted to make a batch of boudin night before last. I do this when I'm trying desperately to lose weight again...I cook, bake, concoct, and dream up things I've never attempted before and surprisingly, I don't eat as much. Seems contradictory to say the least, but it works. By the time I'm done tasting it, I don't wanna eat it so I begin the clean up process and by the time that's over...I don't care if I ever see food again. (I'm a clean freak who hates cleaning. Again, contradictory. What can I say?) Last summer, I made more zucchini muffins than Betty Crocker could shake a stick at and I didn't gain an ounce! Of course, I didn't lose any either but in these "gaining" times, the plateau periods are fond, fond memories.



So, back to boudin, a FANTASTIC Cajun sausage that I hadn't had since I visited my uncle's family when I was 15. I ate so many things that week that I haven't had since. Man, those folks know how to throw ordinary things into a pot and make it taste like a million bucks. I've been hooked on Cajun cookin' ever since, but nothing I've tasted since matches up. Until...



I stopped over at Mom's a couple of weekends ago and she'd grilled and on the plate was a familiar looking sausage link and I had to take a bite. Sure enough, bonafied Cajun food! But, it'd been given to my brother-in-law by a coworker who lives in Louisiana. Of course it hadn't been purchased here in the Sooner state. But, I studied it long and hard and decided I could make it if it couldn't be ordered off the 'net. Thus began my search. I soon discovered that this little delicacy involved pig livers and lamb intestines (so much for the idea that they threw ordinary things in those pots). So, ordering prepared boudin online was out of the question. Too many flashbacks to my sophomore year and the tour of the lamb-slaughter plant in Denver, CO...I'll never forget the way that lady worked so hard to clean out those intestines...or the way another little lady wielded a meat hook. Ugh. Clean, dirty...intestine is STILL intestine and I couldn't knowingly chomp down one. Sometimes, ignorance truly is bliss.



I decided deer or beef could be substituted and I'd make my own. I also discovered I could order synthetic sausage casing that stands up to grilling but can be removed before eating. Yay! Well, Round #1 was not entirely successful...it tasted okay, but the consistency was crap. Reminded me of baby food...pasty. Let's just say it was nasty. I promptly threw it out before I ruined boudin for myself forever. I shall try again at a later date. Probably much later and most likely, never again......did I mention I hate cleaning??

Today's Roadmap of Thought...(no wonder I'm lost!)

Today is a good day! I'm quite fond of good days...they aren't guaranteed after all. I am starving tho. I'm not to the point of chewing the varnish off the desk yet, so that's a plus. Food, my best frenemy, and I are at war, once again. I decided I could no longer deny it after riding 5 hours in a truck with Josh to pick up a backhoe Sunday afternoon. I simply sat there but I was miserably uncomfortable in my quite tight, usta be "loose" jeans. What the heck happened....again. Coulda been the nachos, enchiladas even, spinach ravioli?, apple fritters, Carmel Milky Way, fish tacos!, chicken lo mein...any one of these but more likely all of them over the past two weeks has put my waistline in the squeezed position its now in. I'm beginning to think it's no longer the food that is out to get me, but my own hands. They are responsible for shoveling it all in...

There are days, such as Monday, when I wonder if I'll ever EVER gain the ground I need. I have since spent my days on the Medifast regime, trying to regain some control instead of inches. Third day in and I'm feeling somewhat better but certainly not 10 pounds lighter and really, all I want is to eat something. I've made certain this office is void of anything I could ruin myself with and since the closest place to purchase any contraband is at least a mile away, I may be safe (depends...what is the calorie content of varnish, anyhow?). The little packet of dehydrated chicken noodle soup in my purse is beginning to sound quite tasty.

All I keep thinking is, "It's happening again...it has begun." The damn cycle I can't seem to stop living. While I was trying desperately to carve out a new path around this mountain, I somehow slipped back into the worn rut I've been walking for most of my life. It's ridiculous, it's insanity, and it absolutely consumes most of my thoughts.

I've decided that insecurity is still vanity...that just because I'm looking at myself in disgust and I'm ashamed of myself does NOT mean I'm not still focused on ME for most of my days. Quite a revelation. When I've hit a point where I'm directing my days and planning around not being noticed because people will see that I've gained some weight back, when I don't want my own husband to look at me, much less touch me, when I'm hateful to my kids because I'm unhappy with the way my clothes fit today, when I don't speak to friends because I'm ashamed for them to see me this way, when I'm walking around with my head down...whoa! I'm a little consumed with my appearance and other people's perception of me, I think that's safe to say. Sad, that what people think really matters that much to me even tho I proclaim it does NOT.

And really, I say I want to be "healthy", that I want to change my life to get healthy, but the truth is, I just want to be thin. Thin enough to wear whatever I want and not tug at it all day because I'm self conscious about the way it's sticking to the fat, thin enough to feel beautiful, thin enough to finally wear short hair, thin enough to be sure that even if Josh were to leave me one day, I'd be able to find another man (see? insanity!), thin enough to be all I ever wanted to be but couldn't be cuz I've always been fat. But here's the catch, I don't really want it bad enough to never touch another doughnut or to make more than a momentary commitment to a treadmill. Give me the best of both worlds, please, because I WANT it.

I have to giggle when I think of the proverbial, "You want your cake and to eat it too!". YES! Yes, give me my "thinness" but let me EAT too. My prayer, "Lord! Just give me a do-over, let me wake up a size 7 tomorrow and I PROMISE, I'll stop overeating, I'll never be fat again!" LOL...cuz if I don't, I'll cry instead.

But like I started out saying, today is a good day and today, I have Hope so I think I'll leave it at that. For today. ;)

If I could, I would...

fly to Africa today, right this minute, and rock all those abandoned babies until the day I die.

understand the mind of my 15 year old daughter.

instantly be 35 pounds lighter.

eat an apple fritter every day! (see how my mind works?)

spend eight hours a day with my nose stuck in a book.

never do laundry again!

go back 17 years and be nicer to my mom and a few other people.

turn my teenagers back into toddlers for a few days! (but I want the option to yell "deal's off" at any moment...)

keep my mouth more shut and my ears more open. (okay, I probably CAN do this one.)

'MUTE' the world at will.

drive to Nebraska via Colorado, stopping to visit along the way....today.

have a really nifty, crafty hobby instead of a passion for numbers. (I drive my OWN self crazy.)

Thank God for unexplained fits of laughter!

Life is always an interesting ride, that much is for sure and it doesn't take much more effort than putting your feet on the floor in the morning to find yourself being swept away in it. Finding the time to sit down, collect your thoughts, and breathe awhile is what really requires some ingenuity!

I say every time I find that I've taken a major, unplanned hiatus from blogging that I'll not ever do it again yet somehow, here I am again. The pattern is: When life gets overwhelming, pretend you don't exist! My heartbeat begs to differ...I'M ALIVE. Some days, I'm probably not as grateful as I should be about that. P.O.D. instantly began singing in my head as soon as my fingers typed that. "Everyday is a new day...I'm thankful for every breath I take..." Days like this are why they taught us our numbers...."Count your blessings, Krista." :)

It's only the days that I wake up focused on the "ME" factor that I feel this way. I realized how ridiculous I'm being yesterday at church. I sing back up vocals for our worship team every Sunday and I do my very best to sing while hiding behind the person in front of me. I actually try very hard to disappear while still being heard. It takes talent. Well, yesterday, for some reason I can't extract from my mind, I looked up and because I'm a full head taller than Becca, I locked eyes with my husband....who decided to wink at me. I was suddenly 14 again, unfortunately. "Omg, he's looking at me. WHY is he looking at me? I look horrible today, I feel fat, fatter than usual even....WHY would he look at me? UGH!" And then, my stupidity and complete self-absorption got the better of me and I cracked up. I'm talkin' full on, got the giggles and could NOT stop laughin.

I tried to get a grip, really I did....but it didn't work. I wasn't about to look up at Josh again to see his reaction to what I KNOW he could see goin on with me. I now know that I do not disappear up there....everyone saw it all. I caught Zack, our 15 year old drummer, looking at me, then out at Josh and then HE got cracked up. That just made me worse, which made him worse...and the cycle continued. It was ridiculous and it would not stop. Only after church did Josh tell me that I like to have caused him to "fall out" laughin and that he almost left. I laughed til I cried and hoped like crazy Zack's mom somehow missed the whole episode. :) WHY do things like that happen at the most inappropriate, inconvenient times? We both swear we almost got kicked out of the church we used to go to once when we got cracked up and laughed so hard during services that we literally shook the pew. Boy, did we get some glares that day. And neither of us can tell you what the heck was so funny still! Childish or not, laughter is so, so good for me in these times when the depression comes creeping back in.

I intend to make Blogger a regular part of life....once again, but sometimes intention is just the best I got.