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fat, weight loss, change, women's health, on being fat, obesity

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Being fat is not what I wanted to be. Admitting that I am fat is even harder. I hate saying those words. For me, it’s admitting defeat. As if somehow writing it down and posting it makes it real.

I have eyes. I can plainly see that I’m overweight. I have been for years and all the pulling and tugging at my clothes will not change that. Most days I feel like I’m wearing a suit of shame like my weight is some sort of punishment.

Being fat is hard.

It’s even harder being out of shape. I’ve decided to start working out again and I am now more conscious about weight management. These days working on my abs feels like working out while being 9-months pregnant because I am so out of shape and my stomach is so massive. When I sit down, my stomach literally touches my lap. It disgusts me. When did this happen?

I wish I were one of those women who didn’t care what size her clothes were, what her body looked like in clothes or what people thought of her looks. It’s weird because while I couldn’t care less what people think of my opinions or beliefs or me as a person, I have always been consumed by what people might think of what I look like, more specifically my body. Believe me, I’ve tried to change my way of thinking but still, I feel like being fat is my biggest and most embarrassing failure in life.

I’ve been binge watching TLC shows about being overweight; My 600 lb. life and My Big Fat Fabulous Life. I find myself baffled that people have let themselves get that overweight. Then afraid it could happen to me. Unfortunately, I cannot relate to finding fabulousness in being overweight at all but I am glad others can love their bodies at all sizes.

I used to restrict calories and work out to the extreme. I used to be good at it; too good at it. I was masterful at the art of willpower and self-control, where eating was concerned. The rest of the world could be spinning out of control but I held tight the reins on my food intake. My entire world could be off the hook but my stomach was always tight. When people told me that I looked “sick”, it made me happy because I felt like I was doing something right.

Food is an addiction, worse than any other because while if you are an alcoholic or a drug addict you can choose not to partake. You can quit drugs and you can quit alcohol. It’s f*cking hard but you can do it. You can’t quit food. Well, you can, but you will die. I know, I’ve tried and was pretty successful and unfortunately, being too thin because you are obsessed with your weight and food intake is just as terrible as being too fat because you are eating too much. Being too skinny is just as unhealthy as being too fat. I know because I’ve been both.

My food issues started around the time I turned 7, at least that’s when the photos show that I gained weight. I wasn’t overweight at all but I wasn’t rail thin anymore. I’d love to be able to tell you what triggered it but I can’t because, honestly, I can’t remember most of what happened the years of my life between the summer I turned 7 and sophomore year in high school. It’s all a blur. I just remember wanting to fade into the background.

My dad was an abusive alcoholic who was always angry and my mom shut down to survive. I felt abandoned and the only attention I got was unwanted so I wanted to be invisible and somewhere along the way, I did that because everyone knows the quickest way to not be seen is to become overweight so I hid there, unnoticed. People stare at beautiful things but no one wants to make eye contact with the ugly of the world.

Being fat was my way to disappear.

fat, weight loss, change, women's health, being fat, obesity

I’m realizing that somewhere in that haze is the answer to the question of why I have always battled my own self-image and why I have such a problem accepting the skin I live in. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been at war with my body, my health. Always beating it into submission or ignoring it all together. When I write it down, it looks like a metaphor for my childhood. Maybe that’s the entire issue.

But how do I stop? How do I learn to love my body, myself, unconditionally when I never felt that as a child? It always felt conditional. I feel like by having my own daughters and loving them so fiercely and unconditionally, I’m slowly learning that everyone deserves that kind of love and acceptance…even me.

Even if you haven’t experienced being fat, how do you learn to love something that you’ve spent your entire life wishing you could change?

02172015

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Today, I am turning 40. The Big O! I’m not 100% where I stand on the entire situation but I do know three things 1) I’m in a much better place than when I turned 30 and had a complete meltdown assessing all the things in life that I had not yet accomplished 2) I am completely content with who I am now. I am still striving to reach my goals and make my dreams come true but them coming true is only the icing on the cake. There is no longer that aching unfulfilled space in my heart. I am living my dreams and surrounded by love. 3) I wanted advice from a close friend who had gone before me into her 40’s. I am lucky enough to be blessed to be friends with one of my favorite people on the Internet and she agreed to give me a little sisterly advice about turning 40.

So, while I am off getting my driver’s license renewed (crossing my eyes in my old age that I can still pass the eye exam) and celebrating the anniversary of my 40th year on this earth, my great friend, Jessica Gottlieb has written me a little advice and I think it is great advice for any woman who is headed towards this milestone birthday.

Thank you Jessica! I’ve told you before, and I am sure I will again, your friendship and mentorship has meant so much to me over these past few years. You are one of the most genuinely real people that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.You are like the sassy, feisty, foul-mouthed hooligan big sister that I always wished I’d had. Love you, Lady!

XOXO

 

Debi,

You’re turning 40 in like… well now. It’s weird that when we think about age and women we all too often think about opportunities that are behind us. Most forty-year-old women are done with their childbearing years, most women are done with their educations and many are happily partnered. I guess I thought that my 40’s wouldn’t be dynamic and interesting and full of change.

That’s what I get for thinking.

You’re a woman who knows herself, you take no shit and you take no prisoners. I’ve watched you be passionate and kind to the women around you. You understand womankind and why we need each other.

Moving into this next chapter, and delineating our lives into arbitrary chapters by decade is ridiculous but who am I to fight the tide, I look forward to watching you raise your girls. You’ll enter puberty and teenage years with them. I know you think that those treks belong to the kids, but they don’t, that particular trip is one the whole family takes. I look forward to watching you explore our relationships with each other and I can’t wait to watch you teach your girls to be above the fray though I suspect that you’ll also teach them to have a good right hook. Everyone should have that.

I hope for you that your 40’s bring freedom. I hope for you (and for every woman that I care about) that you run around naked and love your body for having taken you this far. I hope you nurture it with great food, exercise and rest. Yes, I said rest. Put your feet up and rest every so often, rather than feeling like it’s an indulgence. Understand that caring for yourself is a necessary part of being good to your family (ridiculous that we need permission to be selfish).

Social media has helped connect so many of us women who opted to stay home and raise our kids. Although we love being home with our kids who knew it was going to be so dull, the days would be so long and why on earth are there so many bodily fluids involved? What social media hasn’t permitted us to do is rest.

My gift to you this year is to challenge you to take a digital sabbath. Take one day a week and leave the phone home and turned off. Don’t go to the computer at all. It can wait. You don’t have to be a slave to social media, social media should be a slave to you.

I wish you continued health and wealth in this decade as well as love and joy.

Jessica

 

Thanks for the great advice Jessica. I plan to listen to every bit of it. In fact, I’m putting my feet up right now and plan on enjoying life and not rushing through it for the next 40 years. LOL Well, that is my intention. I plan to enjoy the journey.

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Robin Thicke, Miley Cyrus., Blurred line, misogyny, slut shaming

 

Robin Thicke, Miley Cyrus, Blurred Lines, We Can't Stop

The Internet has blurred lines for Robin Thicke and deemed Miley Cyrus a whore. I am also sick to death of women protecting Robin Thicke for his part in the performance. Look, I am not saying that Miley Cyrus was some sort of unsuspecting innocent child and she got turnt out by big, nasty Robin Thicke. Nope, not saying that at all. In fact, what’s the big fucking deal? She is grown. He is grown and it was the VMAs for God’s sake not Saturday morning cartoons on Sprout. It wasn’t like the Wiggles pulled this shit. What did you expect?

Be naked; be dressed like Beetlejuice. Dry hump, twerk. Do whatever makes you happy. What’s got me all hot around the collar is that grown women, mothers even, are all over the Internet calling Miley Cyrus a giant slut while, in the same breath, saying they see nothing wrong with what Robin Thicke was doing. In fact, they lay sole culpability at the feet of Miley Cyrus.What?

Miley Cyrus, RObin Thicke, VMAs, We Can't Stop, Blurred Lines

People, let’s clarify; This.Performance.Was.Choreographed.and.Rehearsed. He was not surprised. She did not just make up a move on the fly. It was not a case of she is a home wrecking slut and he is just a good church going man. IT.TAKES.TWO.TO.GET.A.LAP.DANCE! Giver and receiver because if you are giving and no one agrees to receive then no harm is done. There she would have stood, like a fool, twerkin in the wind.

In case you still think that Robin Thicke was ruined by Miley Cyrus, here is proof that he was ruined long before then and he did it all on his own.

Do you still think that Robin Thicke had nothing to do with what happened on stage Sunday night? If so, explain to me why you find Robin Thicke’s actions less offensive than Miley Cyrus’?

If you can’t hear what I’m trying to say
If you can’t read from the same page
Maybe I’m going deaf
Maybe I’m going blind
Maybe I’m out of my mind

[fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][Bridge: Robin Thicke]
Ok, now he was close
Tried to domesticate you
But you’re an animal
Baby, it’s in your nature
Just let me liberate you
You don’t need no papers
That man is not your maker
And that’s why I’m gon’ take a

[Hook: Robin Thicke]
Good girl
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
You’re a good girl
Can’t let it get past me
You’re far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
But you’re a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me

[Verse 2: Robin Thicke]
What do they make dreams for
When you got them jeans on
What do we need steam for
You the hottest bitch in this place
I feel so lucky, you wanna hug me
What rhymes with hug me
Hey!

I guess even misogyny and slut shaming are tolerable as long as you put them to a good beat. By the way, if you watch the Blurred Lines video you will see that most of the Blurred lines performance was dictated from Mr. Thicke’s video.

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love is, Difference between Love, like and Infatuation

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out how to explain sex to my girls but what about how to know the difference between love, like and infatuation? It’s actually a very important discussion to have with your kids but how many parents actually have it? I’ve decided that honesty is the best thing to do. I want open dialogues with them about everything.

How many times have you been in love? Like really in love. I thought I was “in love” about 3 times before I actually was. You see, the problem was that I didn’t know what real love was so I kept thinking I was in love but really it was a crush, infatuation, and love but not true, unconditional, forever love. But each time it felt like “love” until I pulled my head out of the love fog and could see it for what it really was.

There was lots of casual dating but each “love” was necessary for the learning curve. If I hadn’t experienced each time I thought I was “in love” I wouldn’t have had any barometer by which to measure when the real thing happened.

Don’t get me wrong, they all had their purpose and I wouldn’t trade any of the experience. Our experiences make us into who we are and if it weren’t for all of those false love alarms, I never would have known when I stumbled backwards into a really good guy and a healthy relationship.

What is the Difference between Love, Like and Infatuation?

Remember when you were in high school, maybe even college, and you fell in love and it was all consuming and insatiable? It was all you could think about and all you cared about. Anytime day or night, all you wanted was to be with that other person. You would have crawled inside of that person and lived if it were possible. Making love was truly an other worldly experience. You could not satisfy your craving for that person.

Remember those days when you were so in love that it hurt your stomach? When seeing that person was the most important part of your day? Remember thinking to yourself, or maybe even saying it out loud, I would die for you? And you meant it. If someone walked into the room and it came down to you and him, you would surely jump in front of that bullet because you loved him so hard that if he died life wouldn’t be worth living any ways, so why not sacrifice your life for his?

Were we stupid? Or was our baby brains just too consumed and overwhelmed by feeling love for someone other than our parents and complicated by all of those hormones that we just couldn’t process it? We knew our parents loved us and they would take a bullet for us so isn’t it logical that we take a bullet for the person who we love beyond all reason and comprehension? I used to think so.

I was one of “those” girls. I loved being in love. I loved loving someone and I loved the thought of someone loving me. Someone wanting me. Wanting to possess me. Someone not being able to live without me. It thrilled me. I believed that was the measure of true love. Someone willing to die for me. Anything less was bullshit. But as most teenagers, I was delusional. I saw undying devotion in the simplest of tasks. He pulled the chair out for me and cupped my face when he kissed me. He must love me. He surprised me with a single rose and my favorite candy at the drive-in, this must be “IT”. Wow, it’s easy to believe bullshit when you’ve never had the real thing, isn’t it?

Anyways, that passion was electric. It was the kind of “love” that had you feeling manic all the time. Coming from an actual person diagnosed with bipolar, that is saying something. I lived in that high to the exclusion of all else. Nothing else mattered and that was the measure of “real love” to me, for a very long time. I thought if it wasn’t all consuming and in crisis and threatened, it couldn’t be the real thing because the real thing was messy and it f*cked you both up beyond all recognition because that passion fire burns hot and high and hard, all.the.time. What I didn’t realize it that it burns out and leaves you both in a pile of ashes. If it was really  intense, it could almost kill you both. But, adult me realizes that is crazy. I don’t want love that kills me. That’s poison.

I learned to live on that high. I craved it as much as I craved love. Then I fell in real love and I realized what I was doing up until then, was accepting what I had been taught to believe was love from the dysfunctional example of my parents and from movies. I believed that for it to be “love” it had to be “go hard or go home” at all times because love is work and if you love someone, you have to be willing to love them so hard that it might kill them and you have to be willing to die for them. I was a child and when you are a child, the world works in absolutes but as I grew up, I realized that real love doesn’t live in absolutes. It thrives in the grey area.

How important is it to distinguish the difference between love, like and infatuation?

For me, it wasn’t about dying for someone or killing for them. It was about being willing to live for them. Not in the “everything I do is for you” way like in all of those sappy love songs that we swoon over when we are kids. I mean in the “I love you so much that I want as many days on this earth as I can get with you” way.  As a mother, it’s important to tell your precious daughters about dating guys so they can have a wonderful relationship.

In the way that makes the stupid things you’re doing fall away and life get clear. When I met my husband, I was a hot mess, in every sense of the word. I wasn’t even living my own life. I was living other people’s expectations and I was basing my happiness on someone else. Then I met the Big Guy. He put me first (maybe for the first time I had ever been first in my life) and my thinking shifted. I no longer had to be on the defensive. I didn’t have to be the aggressor. I just had to be me.

Suddenly, I didn’t want to throw up every morsel of food that went into my mouth. I wanted to live and my 10-year slow suicide by anorexia plan wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted to live and I didn’t want him to know just how dysfunctional I really was. So, I started working towards getting better. I got help.

He saw the messed up ugly side of me almost immediately. I was an undiagnosed manic bipolar, anorexic with body dysmorphia and a self-medicating drinking problem. I was fun, then I was raging, mean and completely irrational. It was pretty hard to hide from anyone who was paying attention.

I had developed a bad habit of pushing anyone who wanted to get close to me away. I had long passed the wanting to crawl inside of someone phase. I was selfish and borderline and convinced that I was unlovable because up to that point, I had done everything right and none of it ever worked. I never passed quality control. I gave up and resigned myself to being detached. I basked in the position of being wanted, even if it was all surface.

Then the Big Guy came along and while his initial intention was to purely to hook up. We ended up talking all night after a couple ghosting friends left me stranded at a party at his house. Somewhere between our first disinterested meeting and that next morning, we connected on a cellular level without even trying. In that moment, we became each other’s person.

It wasn’t love at first sight. I don’t even think we were each other’s types. We would have never even have met one another other than a new friend I had met in my LSAT class who happened to grow up with this tall, gangly alt guy with black fingernails and a heart only rivaled by the size of his smile. It took a couple more weeks before we worked out the kinks. Falling head over heels doesn’t feel like what you expect it to. It sort of sneaks up on you and you suddenly realize that this person gives you hope and loves you unconditionally, through the ugly and the hard and the messy and the complicated and they never think of leaving because it’s not an option that even enters their mind or yours. You realize that you can’t imagine a life that doesn’t include seeing this person’s face every morning. , kissing them before bed each night, seeing them in the faces of your children. That is love. It’s a light that never goes out because you don’t let it. You both work at it. You keep it alive, even when it’s sick and sad. You love it back to life.

You realize that you can’t imagine a life that doesn’t include seeing this person’s face every morning, kissing them before bed each night, seeing them in the faces of your children. That is love. It’s a light that never goes out because you don’t let it. You both work at it. You keep it alive, even when it’s sick and sad. You love it back to life.

Maybe real true love isn’t what they write about in the story books or songs. Maybe it is sometimes. I want my girls to know that love can look like a million different things. What’s important is how it makes you feel when you’re with that person. It isn’t big and bold, though sometimes it is, it’s also quiet and steady and safe. It’s feeling happy just being still and not needing an escape plan or contingency plan. It’s not about being willing to die for someone, it’s being willing to work your ass off to live as long as humanly possible to share every day with your best friend.

The person you love as much as you love yourself. The person who gave you the children who you would take the bullet for because it’s the legacy of your love; the thing the 2 of you created. Real love is the kind that makes you want to risk everything to make the world better than you left it because it’s what he deserves. That’s love.

The real difference between love, like and infatuation is that when you find real love…that person can satisfy all of those things; love, like and lust.

How will you teach your kids to know the difference between love, like and infatuation?

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Yesterday, to put it frankly, was torturous. I was literally at my wits end. Not to be stuck on a topic but kindergarten has really tap danced its way across my sweet little Bella’s nerves. This kid is overwhelmed and emotionally spent every single day. I KNOW this is normal because I have had loads of feedback and complaints of this phenomenon occurring all over the world. Apparently, just 1 more thing those damn parenting books left out is that Kindergarten makes your little one certifiable. After surviving bed time last night all I wanted to do is talk to someone…anyone..particularly the Big Guy. I called him, ranting and raving at the lunacy that I had just endured. In retrospect, I guess I sounded like I was looking for an answer like a heat seeking missile. But I wasn’t. I know the problem, I know that its semi normal. I simply needed my sounding board to bounce things off of..for someone to hear me, especially since , I , suspect, spent the entire day talking to myself. I know this because my girls heard absolutely nothing I had said or they chose to ignore me. I’m giving them the benefit of the doubt and going with they didn’t hear me. But the Big Guy, who is again out of town, felt he needed to give me an answer. I can’t imagine how he feels with me calling out of sorts and him being there. I know he feels guilty but its not his fault. I just needed him to listen. He got frustrated at his own lack of useful suggestions and I became overwhelmed…like “I’m drowning in this craziness” overwhelmed. I became silent. I had to go. I cried..long and hard, alone in my living room with my living room shitting dog staring at me ( probably wondering why I thought I was allowed to have a break down, after all she had things to chew up and shit out. Oh, did I forget to mention that now the dog is mad at me and decided the other day to add insult to injury and tag in with the kids. To do her part, she waited until I had a vomiting migraine, the kids were out of control and then she chose her time; the bitch shit on my floor! Oh yeah, anybody want a slightly used 11 year old boxer? I joke. Or do I?  ). I felt pretty ridiculous because if you have a breakdown and there is no one there to console you or feel guilty, did it really happen? And if so, what was the purpose? Anyways, after I was all cried out, I called the Big Guy out and I told him that all I needed was a sounding board, not a solution and I was rational because I had already had my breakdown with my only witness, that living room shitting dog of mine. I told him( the Big Guy not he LR shitting dog)  that through my monumentally awful shitty day, I had gained some great parenting knowledge. I finally understood why some Mom’s go crazy  and drive their car full of kids off a bridge somewhere. I would never do that; but I so understood how someone could be pushed to the brink of sanity by screaming kids. When they work together they are a powerful force to reckon with. I also now completely understand why some animals eat their young! I heard the Big Guy gasp and sigh at the same time. I hope I didn’t scare him too badly. Or maybe I do.
Today was a new day. Today, I made a decision that we were not going to have another day like yesterday. I don’t think any of us could mentally survive another one of those days consecutively. I changed my attitude, I changed my reactions, I breathed deeply, and today was so much better than yesterday. I actually felt like we were, before this affliction of kindergarten came through and ravished us all. I got the girls up and had clothes and breakfast ready to go. We made it to school just in time for the bell. I was very laid back. No freaking out about being late. No not me, that wasn’t the bigger picture. It was small.

When I picked Bella up from school, no arguing. I refused to be sucked into a verbal assault by an overtired 5 year old. She got bored with trying and moved on! One more small victory. We came home to refuel before running any more errands. Normally,we would have just went from school but I knew lunch needed to be provided or I would have tired /hungry meltdowns in PUBLIC! Never a good mix.One more small victory…high five for Mommy! After lunch we hit the library to pick up some movies and books. I was quick. I told them before we even got out of the car, 2 movies and 2 books! They listened! And to make it even better, I found this amazing find for $1!

How awesome is this? Totally fist bump worthy! We came home and went through the book, admiring the great works of the Louvre. Me and my 3 and 5 year old. This book may or may not have got me on the hook for a trip to the Louvre in the near future. Oh well, much nicer trip than off a bridge, right?LOL
They were so good, we went to the grocery store and (wait for it) they didn’t even pester me for  one of those God awful ginormous car/cart contraptions that I usually run into everything and everyone in the store.I kept them in line with the promise of some bike riding when we got home. Oh, Thank you God for small mercies. We were in and out, with our handy list, within 45 minutes. By this time, I was getting pretty afraid of what was to come. So we got the hell out of Dodge while the getting was good.
We got home and I kept my promise.

I set the timer on my phone and when it was done everyone put their own bikes back into the garage, without incident.Woot Woot! Then  I let them take long bubble baths.I got them dressed and let them watch one of their library movies. I made some sloppy Joes from an awesome recipe I found and some homemade granola while they watched their movie.We enjoyed a semi peaceful dinner ( there as some mutiny when they discovered that I tried to sneak green peppers in on them in the Joes; I removed the peppers and all was remedied). Then teeth were brushed and kids were put to bed. We had a small issue with someone not wanting to go to bed because her Lilo and Stitch movie was “Right at the good part Mommy”. I gave a little and we all survived the day with no crying, no screaming, and no thoughts of the bridge or eating my young. Here’s to tomorrow, may it be even better than today!It really is all about enjoying the small things in life. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am going to go happy dance my ass all the way to bed!Happy Mothering!

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breastfeeding, breastfed, breastfeed, lactation, feeding infants, breast-feeding, nursed, feeding babies, breastmilk, benefits of breastfeeding

Is breastfeeding really always best? I was reading, my friend, Jennifer Brandt’s blog Perfectly Disheveled tonight and was reminded of something that I had buried deep within the recesses of my mind…BREASTFEEDING! Oh how it sucked! No pun intended. It was one of the most awful things I have experienced thus far in motherhood. I know its not PC to admit that breastfeeding sucked for me but hey, that’s how I roll. I am honest to a fault. I always thought that breastfeeding would be something beautiful and magical; a sacred bond between mother and baby. And it was but it was also something else. It was what most Hollywood actresses look like without their hair and makeup done, no stylist standing by, no PR person to spin their words into weaved gold. It was raw, it was painful , it was ugly and, on most days, it hurt me deeply. Breastfeeding kicked my ass physically and emotionally. Worse than that, it was humbling. From the beginning, breastfeeding made me feel like the world’s biggest freaking loser Mommy! Amen. I’m divulging the truth that it was for me.

I remember coming home on that first day, driving 15 miles an hour with our blinkers on trying our best not to damage or mess up this most perfect being that we had just been given. We cooked this baby good and read all the books but when it came down to it, we couldn’t believe these people were going to let us take the baby out of the hospital. After all, what the hell were they thinking? We didn’t know what to do. We could barely keep one another alive, plants were dying all over the house, I’d lost a dog but these assholes wanted me to keep an entire human being alive! WHAT?? Panic set in but there was no turning back. We were going to hold onto this halo/fog of new baby splendor as long as we possibly could. The key was to keep the baby in tact.

We arrive home. Hello baby! This is your new house. The whole world, in its entirety, will be forever changed. You will be the sun and we will rotate around you forevermore. Time for a nap. Gently we place the baby into the bassinet and then its time to turn off the lights, pull the room darkening shades and SLEEP. But wait. That won’t work. If the lights are off we can’t see if she’s breathing. If we can’t see that she’s breathing..maybe she’s not. No! Sorry this plan will not work. Abort mission. Abort mission! Turning off the lights won’t do. Instead, we collapsed in exhaustion laying across the bed, with our heads half in the bassinet, with the ceiling fan light turned all the way on! Just about the time my brain and heart gave way and allowed my eyes to close, the baby woke up..starving. Let the breastfeeding commence. No lactation nurse, no holds barred. Let’s do this.

To my teet I drew my baby. She suckled. She didn’t latch very well. I knew that my milk hadn’t come in yet, as the lactation nurse had already informed me of my ineptitude before I had even left the hospital. She, also, had set me up with a medieval contraption known as an SNS. Not familiar with this? Oh, aren’t you the lucky girl? SNS stands for Supplemental Nursing System which is basically today’s scarlet letter for you are a fucking loser who doesn’t have the capability of feeding your own offspring. That’s right, there are broads in the world breastfeeding their boobie nectar to chihuahuas and I can’t keep my own human alive. Fuck. It was the Chia pet all over again. I was panicked that I was going to have to be dependent on a breast pump that is electric. I was popping Fenugreek like they were the last tic tacs in the world. Anyways, those were my choices…Fenugreek and SNS…until my milk dropped. What does that even mean? It’s not like a gallon of formula is going to come spilling out of me. I pumped..barely a taste for my infant. So, I grudgingly hook myself up to the SNS. Picture, if you will, some sort of human type version of what is used on cows. Basically, it was a small container that you filled with formula, that hung around your neck. There was a very small tube attached to that which was then taped to the top of your breast and down at the nipple.For me, that meant atop the nipple shield. It was a pretty hostile site. Poor baby Bella. Why couldn’t her Mommy just produce like all the other Mommies? I don’t know baby. These fucking D boobs apparently are for fun and not function.ARGH! The humiliation.

Why had breastfeeding forsaken me? What had I done wrong?

As I sat there, her looking up at me, questioning what wrong she had done in a previous life to be saddled with such a worthless mom, was enough to break my heart. But I soldiered on because I wasn’t stopping until that milk gave in and came in. I was going to breastfeed this baby if it killed me or broke me. Oh, don’t you worry…it almost did. I called the nurse and she barked at me to only do the SNS every other feeding and only an ounce so that it forced the baby to suckle harder and force my milk to drop. I listened because, quite frankly, this is her job and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Then in that first 24 hour period, Bella fed every 1/2 hour. Do you know what that means? She was literally off my tit for about 5 minutes every hour for 24 hours. She was crying, out of starvation. I was crying out of frustration, humiliation and guilt. I felt like the biggest piece of shit Mother to EVER walk the earth..even lower than those broads who drove their kids off a bridge. By the next morning, constant crying ( on both our parts) and no sleep, I was at my most vulnerable. And the baby was looking pretty much like an Oompa Loompa. I’m not going to lie to you, I lost my ever loving mind when I realized I had broken the baby. The perfect little baby.

I called the doctor and he said to bring her to the hospital. I was raw. OMG. I was the most exhausted, vulnerable, crazed lunatic on the maternity ward. Oh yes, they made me return to the scene of the crime. The nursery. Immediately, they took one look at our Willie Wonka cast member and told us that our baby had jaundice caused by my malfunctioning bossoms! It was as if someone kicked me in my hemorrhaging crotch, smacked me in my sore raw nipples and yanked my heart out through my chest all while laughing at me. I left the room and ugly cried hysterically…uncontrollably. The Big Guy was freaked out, his baby was orange and his wife was out of her mind. The nurses knew it was hormones. They tried to soothe my fears but it was impossible.

The moral of the story is even after all this, I continued to nurse for 3 months…with the SNS system because I NEVER produced enough milk to sustain my child. NEVER! But that damn lactation nurse kept telling me to keep taking the Fenugreek, it will come in. Then she told me to withhold formula, then I lost her number. I have never felt like such a failure. To this day, it still makes me hang my head to know that I couldn’t just breastfeed. It’s like being 30 and still riding a bike with training wheels. If you’re expecting a child, I would suggest you prepare for your breastfeeding journey. You may search for a breast pump covered by insurance along with other equipment and supplements you’ll need.

But because I would have been ridiculed by everyone I knew and scowled at for not trying my damnest, I did it again with my second child and again we ended up in the hospital with jaundice. Breastfeeding isn’t for everybody…no matter what people say. If I could have, I would have done it for longer. I did love the bond we formed during that breastfeeding time but if you pan out in the pictures, you can clearly see that I was strapped to that SNS contraption which was neither sweet or bond conducive. So, I say to you…for me…BREASTFEEDING SUCKED!

Did you breastfeed? For how long? Was it easy? Was it hard? Did you use an SNS? Would lengths would you go to succeed at breastfeeding your baby?

Breastfeeding is NOT always best for everyone

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How To Continue Education During The Coronavirus Pandemic

By now, we are all painfully aware that Coronavirus is serious. President Trump has stopped visitors from the EU, and other countries around the world, from entering the US. Ladies and gentlemen, we’re officially amid a Coronavirus pandemic. The WHO classes a pandemic as “the occurrence in a community or region of cases of an illness… clearly in excess of normal expectancy.” Life is definitely not normal at the moment, it feels like we’re living in a sci-fi horror film, so the World Health Organization must be right. Aside from every other fear on our minds, the nagging thing we have to consider is how To Continue Education During The Coronavirus Pandemic?

READ ALSO: Parents who Send Sick Kids to School are the Worst

But, most families’ routine isn’t going to stop in its tracks because you can’t afford it to. Education is a prime example as many Americans will still need to go to work and some kids still need to get to school or a daycare center, though many of our children’s schools have been suspended indefinitely. These are uncertain and unpredictable times. How can you still get your kid an education during an outbreak of one of the worst health crises in the past decade?

Homeschool

As a mom, you always have the right to homeschool your kids. It’s not as simple as pulling them out and starting the curriculum halfway through as you have a life, too. However, if you’re worried about the state of the education system right now, it’s not unfeasible.

Speak to The School

Parents have the final say; however, your children’s daycare or school isn’t off the hook. If the virus starts to get in the way of education, the teachers and principal should craft a plan to limit the damage. For example, they might upload the classes onto an online program that allows the students to complete the work at home. 

Study Via E-Learning Technology

Let’s not forget that the children aren’t the only ones studying in the US. Plenty of adults are trying to better themselves also. As a grown-up, you have the flexibility to decide against attending class, where kids don’t. I’m actually going back to school myself in April and it will be online. As far as the kids go, I was keeping them home Monday no matter what (I’m the parent and their health and safety is my top priority).

READ ALSO: Working with Preschoolers

Luckily, the girls have the luxury of using E-learning at their schools, not every child does. Even so, it’s essential to study hard to stay on track for good grades and to ensure their hard work doesn’t go to waste. Thankfully, currently, the world is more technologically savvy regarding e-learning, so it should be as easy as logging-on and completing studies from home.

Practice Good Hygiene

In a health scare such as this one, it’s vital that everybody practices quality hygiene. It’s up to the parents to help their kids maintain a high standard as they’ll happily drop the ball. Believe me, if working with preschoolers has taught me anything this year, it’s been the power of germs and the lack of childhood hygiene. As adults, it’s our responsibility to help them. That means packing extra tissues for coughs and sneezes and leaning on hand gel and antibacterial gel. Try not to touch your face, either, and get the kids to follow your lead. If you are having a hard time explaining this to them, you may want to grab a Kids Hygiene Book so that you can show and educate them easily the importance of practicing good hygiene. Hopefully, these tips will keep the whole country safe.

How is your family life-changing during the Coronavirus pandemic?

 

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I 3 weeks ago just received this beauty from the awesome Ms.J @ https://boobiesbabiesblog.blogspot.com, who happens to be one of the most hardcore chickies I know. I have been so wrapped up with all the craziness that is my life  my Mommy/wife duties that I completely forgot to post it and pass it on. Be rest assured, ~J, I am so honored to be the recipient of such an awesome award. Thank you for thinking I am , indeed, hardcore! I’d also like to thank my husband who has left me with this single mothering gig throughout the week, which is indeed making me more hardcore by the minute:) Thank you to my girls, without which this would be a blog about nothing. Most importantly,thank you to my readers…YOU are Hardcore and I love you all!!
The ‘rules’ of The Hardcore Award are going to be…
Link and list 5 (or less) people who you think are awesome, amazing and rockin’ and then share a few things that you think make YOU awesome!  I think that people are so used to being humble and don’t want to seem narcissistic but Mami thinks EVERYONE should think they are awesome and amazing and rockin’.  Maybe your an amazing baker or you have a great butt…whatever it is…tell the world and feel good about it!  Yeah!  Oh and you need to let them know someway (a comment is prob easiest) that you have awarded them.”
What makes ME awesome? I think I excel at all that I do, when I am not overwhelmed and failing at it! I am an overachieving multitasker and a perfectionist. I  am a big boobied hot mess who loves with all that she is, makes a fool of myself on a pretty regular basis to make those I love smile.I am honest to a fault, masters wielding intelligent , fashionista when I have the time and desire so not too often anymore, hardcore effin MOMMY, WIFE, FRIEND, and BLOGGER EXTRAORDINAIRE! Oh yeah, and I am Modest…very Modest!
I think if you read my blog-you must be hardcore-but I’m gonna adhere to Mami’s rules hook up a few specific people!
  • Mrs.Beer@https://thebreweryblog.blogspot.com/
  • Peryl@https://blog.seattlepi.com/parentingadabsurdum
  • Jennifer @ https://thetoyboxyears.blogspot.com/
  • Gucci Mama @https://www.mamastillwearsgucci.com/
  • The Vegetable Assassin @https://vegetableassassin.blogspot.com/

I know its probably faux pas to give the award back to my giver but I just want to say, ~J @ https://boobiesbabiesblog.blogspot.com/ really is awesome. Please go check her out. Her blog will leave you in stitches and she always has great giveaways! Happy Mothering all!

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Linville Falls Campground, North Carolina, GoRVing

Estimated reading time: 5 minutes

Last month, the Big Guy, Bella and I headed south for a fresh-air filled, unplugged, be present getaway and we got just that. Gabs didn’t come with on this trip because, well, in honesty, it’s been a long 17 months. The rest of us packed a bag, jumped in the jeep and headed off to picturesque Linville Falls, North Carolina to make some memories.

Disclosure: We were hosted by Marla and Kenny at Linville Falls Campground in partnership with GoRVing but all opinions about our experience are mine.

The Linville Falls Campground is located in Western North Carolina, just off the Blue Ridge Parkway, centrally located to some of the best Appalachian hiking and biking trails that you could ever want to try. This privately owned campground has full hook-up sites, water/electric sites and a secluded, primitive tent area. 

It’s about an hours drive from Asheville, NC and about 30 minutes from Boone and Bowling Rock, NC. There are so many options for things to do in the area and all set to the beautiful backdrop of the majestic Smokey Mountains. Located minutes just away from the area’s most spectacular attractions, including Linville Falls & Gorge, Wiseman’s View, Grandfather Mountain, Linville Caverns and Gem Mountain. 

Linville Falls Campground, North Carolina, GoRVing

The campground itself is made up of tent space, RV space and cabin rentals. There is truly something for everything; from beginner to avid camping fan. We were provided a cabin, #11, Black Bear to be exact. It is a cozy little cabin located at the back of the property. It was quaint and provided the perfect opportunity for my very much plugged-in family to unplug and unwind without our phones blowing up with all the obligations we left behind at home.

Linville Falls Campground, North Carolina, GoRVing

There is cell service but, Wi-Fi is scarce and honestly, isn’t that part of the charm of camping? You’re not supposed to be doing work in the wilderness, you’re supposed to unplug, look up, listen to the birds singing, smell the flowers blooming and hear what the people you love have to say. That’s exactly what we did.

Linville Falls Campground, North Carolina, GoRVing

The cabin was a two-room, rustic cabin with a fully furnished kitchen including a full-size refrigerator, stove, microwave, a quaint front porch, huge deck with stairs leading down into the woods where a fire pit awaits; perfect for nighttime stargazing and sitting around the fire laughing and making memories. It had one bedroom with a full-sized bed and a pull-out sofa couch with the potential to sleep 4. The cabin was cozy and falling asleep listening to the crickets, cicadas and bullfrogs at night was absolutely magical.

Linville Falls Campground, North Carolina, GoRVing

Cabin 11 can sleep 4 but, personally, I think it is the perfect weekend getaway for couples. It’s just enough space to have all the together time your heart desires with that special someone. In fact, I’d say it is the perfect place for a secluded, serene romance with a side of nature. I joked with the Big Guy that it’s the ideal conditions for expanding a family or just reconnecting on a deeper level, not just couples but families in general.  One of our favorite parts about staying in a cabin is that we get to connect without all the disruptions and distractions of our normal day-to-day and that was absolutely true of our trip to Linville Falls Campground.

Linville Falls Campground, North Carolina, GoRVing

According to Go RVing, Park Model RVs (sometimes referred to as deluxe cabins or cottages) are unique units that provide temporary accommodations for recreation, camping or seasonal use. Park Model RVs are designed to look like a home, but they need to be hooked up to site electricity, sewer and water like an RV. They may have a front porch, a sleeping loft and are a great way to experience the campground lifestyle if you don’t have an RV or all the gear that goes with tent camping.

We spent our days on long hikes with breathtaking views and our nights collapsing from exhaustion and laughter after a day well spent together in nature. No service and no distractions meant 100% quality time and that is more precious to us now than ever with the girls getting older. I say it every time we go camping, and I’m saying it again now because it is so true, take your family camping whether its in a tent, a cabin or an RV, you won’t regret it and it is, by far, the most meaningful family vacation you will ever take and those memories will last a lifetime.

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I’ve noticed a lot of my friends, real world, bloggy world, imaginary and otherwise, are all up in arms about what they will be receiving for Mother’s Day. I understand this. Us Mommies, we are under appreciated, overwhelmed and underpaid. We get no vacation, no time off for good behavior, hell, we can’t even get solitary confinement (all I want is to be able to pee by myself, is that really too much for a grown woman to ask for?). I have friends who want flowers, friends who want chocolates, jewels ( well, y’all know how I feel about diamonds! Now, if I could just get my husband to read my blog), nice brunch, etcetera , etcetera. If I were listing actual tangible things well, I’d say …. a breast lift, a tummy tuck, lipo, some botox, a spa day, my youth back, some energy, a Louis bag, a Birkin bag,
some Louboutin shoes,

a Range Rover, a vacation to anywhere. This is exhausting, this list could go on forever. But what I really want is what my husband is giving me… my gardens, to provide nourishment, beauty, butterflies, and to make me feel like a better Mommy. Even better than that I will be getting a weekend (oh yes a weekend, not 1 stinking day! Hell no..for carrying and birthing my two beautiful giant headed daughters? He’s lucky I don’t want an entire month!) of my husband cleaning the house, engaging the kids, cooking (oh yeah, Mr. Man can cook his bootie off. He’s already called to take my weekend order. I’m not sure , but I know Strawberry Tiramisu is on the menu somewhere), doing those damn awful dishes, and me..resting and SLEEPING! Oh yeah, you heard me right. This no sleep shit is for the birds..my doctor agrees. That’s why this Mother’s Day weekend, I’ve got a hot date with AMBIEN.Come here you lovely bitch, Mama’s been waiting a long time to hook up with you..or maybe I should say bed down cause my happy ass is sleeping in this weekend! I am so excited, I just about can’t stand it! And Sunday, after I am all rested and relaxed, Mama is going to take a bottle of wine down to the media room and watch an entire movie by myself with No interruptions! ( I am not saying to mix pills and booze. They will be taken on separate occasions…just to clarify, No pills and booze will be consumed together.) I can’t wait for Mother’s Day. Who needs fancy restaurants and gifts when I can have sleep, sanity, and PEACE!! Just imagine how much more enjoyable I will be to be around and how much more I will be able to enjoy my children after a full weekend of 8 hours of sleep a night, for the first time since my lovely Bella was conceived! God Bless you honey! I promise I will return the favor on Father’s Day!

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