25 going on 30?

Merry Christmas my fellow momma elves!
I have to say mine was pretty awesome. My felt hat did get puked on and my knickers received little action besides scuffing against cupboards and stretching from food, but we had visitors.

I recently packed away my striped socks and sung the last jingle bells. Santa fled the coop yesterday and although I love him it was nice to have my house back to semi normal again. This time of year I was grateful to have my family with me. The beautiful people I include in the 'Shmills' and most of all my health.

As I get older I am reminded that I can no longer stay up late. I can no longer eat lots of treats without frequent use of the restroom and that eggnog can't be eaten alone for breakfast.

It is especially this time of year when green is donned and the stockings are hung with care that I realize my body has slowed down. I have to start earlier and earlier to prepare for that years festivities.

Talking with my beautiful Sister in Law (who has animal kids only at the moment) I mention that even though I am only 25 I feel like I am 40. That when I read Harper's Bazaar I relate more to the 30's style guide then the 20's.
"Well, you are closer to 30 then young 20's"

(GULP!!!)

and then I said I feel like I've aged way faster since having kids

"Well, kids do age you, but I don't think its 10 years"

(SIGH)

"I would say 5 years"

(SO I AM 30 ?????)

Oh brother call my vein, but seeing the wrinkles form under my eyes and the way my forehead creases I wonder what I will look like at 50!

This was an ephiphany I did not want to have.

I feel like I have been stuck in this weird "I don't know how to dress my age rut" for years.

I was married at 19 and would still shop in the juniors department at Nordstrom. And although I turned 20, 10 days later I still felt young.

I wore dress clothes for the next three years of my life and then was at home with a new little man and I felt I hit a midlife crisis. What do I wear? I am a mom, I don't want to be a frumpy one, but what the heck do I wear? I feel I am way too old for Abercrombie head to toe and jeans and ugg boots 24/7

After Having buggy and feeling older I feel even more confused. What is age appropriate when you are not young 20's but not yet middle 30's????

OYYY...... (by the way does anyone know what that means?)

So this Christmas I not only celebrated the birth of my Savior Jesus Christ, but the death of a salesman....wait thats not right.

The death of the young 20 year old Mariah.

I had of coarse culturally acceptable burning of the body inside the castle, but just before being killed I was saved by a little hobbit...wait thats not right.

Anyways. Now that my elf outfit is in storage what do I put on next? It is too early to be wearing my red heart teddy for Valentine's and I am too old for my footed pj's.

Suggestions?

It hissed at me

I got one of those glade sensor air fresheners and Hubby walked by it a couple weeks ago and kind of gave a jump when it went off "It hissed at me" he said. That made me laugh and ever since then I think of him saying that and it makes me giggle inside.

I know that he is thinking of that tonight "it hissed at me". Today I wore my grumpy goggles. They feed impulses into my brain and bloat my tummy and give me cramps all day and a voracious appetite. The kids more prodomniatley Smandrew did not take nap(s) today and I was going cocoo for cocoa puff as lido would put it.

Having kids all day from 7am-8pm non-stop makes the grumpy goggles fog up and life seems quite a bit less happy. Hubby just informed me as I was sitting rocking buggy to sleep that "He couldn't deal with me anymore" I cried of coarse mostly because I was embarassed and agreed. I totally understood what he meant. And with all that moisture in my goggles I had to take them off and calm down for a bit. Refocus. I had been hissing at him since he had been home. Even when I tried to run away (or as he would say abandon them) and went into the computer room to order pizza online for dinner he followed me in and I just about freaked out I wanted to scream and cry "I just want to be left alone and have quiet for 5 minutes!!! Please! I am going crazy!"
But I didn't instead I hissed at him and told him to leave me alone I could take it anymore (sounds kind of the same right?)

Ugh, I am glad today is over with and tomorrow is a new day. The pizza by the way was disgusting just FYI don't order the hand tossed from Pizza hut. Really don't order greasy food for dinner when you already aren't feeling that great.

The battle of the emotions begins and for the next week I will have to keep my goggles in check beccause it will be that long until uhumm is over with and my body calms down.

Normal Mariah has thought of some things that makes her laugh and wanted to document them (because you have to admit-talking in the 3rd person about yourself totally makes you seem more sane and points plausible)



A little list of the moments that have made me laugh really hard.:

Laying next to Smandrew and he touches the mole on my cheek "hmm" he says and then proceeds to try and get it off with a very concerned face

My little niece eating chocolate cake and me teasing her asking "Did you eat some cake?" "No..." "Who did it?" " The rat" while she had cake all over her face

Kalon and I laying in bed and I went to put my leg over his and he flicked his leg up so fast and pushed mine back down
"Cat like reflexes" he said (like in the old car commercial)

In Idaho and on a trip to Starbucks with hubby and Dad. Dad is telling a joke and he is laughing hysterically at himself and his funniness which makes us laugh too. Then I say "You just crack yourself up don't you" and he wheezes out through laughing hysteria " I know....I just can't even stand myself"!

My sister in law playing rock band. My hubby and her hubby (my brother) convince her that in order to change the menu options she needs to talk into the microphone which she does while my brother controls it with his remote control. She responds about how cool it is etc etc. They eventually let her know that is not how it works and even though I would have totally done the same thing-it is still hilarious to me to think about


Life is good, sometimes People suck and most of the time dancing and music make it better.
Next time someone, or something hisses at you remember We are all allowed to be crazy once in a while and if it persists tel them to take off the grumpy goggles and calm down and I would reccomend offering to buy them a treat. Like how you would bribe an angry dog to look the other way with a big raw, meaty bone.

The baby made me fat

What not to wear.Ok seriously this is one of my favorite shows on TLC. I love the makeovers and the way people glow once put into pretty well fitted clothes. It is like a light is clicked on and they feel not just better, but really more themselves. The self they forgot about years ago in pursuit of other goals wether career or family.

In college someone asked me if all my family was like me.

Basically meaning: really into clothes etc. and makeup and of coarse my reply was NO.

I think they had meant it to be negative, but I hadn't taken it that way at the time and I am grateful to have grown up in a family where being well manicured was important, but money was tight. I grew up in a family where the matriarch was always dressed well and face on (make up that is).

I expected myself to be that way when I had kids (doesn't every mom want to be the pretty, nice mom that people want to visit with?) I didnt' realize it would take about 2 years to get closer to my expectation.

Fluctuating with so much weight the past 7 years between hormones, pregnancy, depression and overeating I have learned that Darn it I can like myself for the way I am. But it took a lot of tears and self pity to get to it.

I today read an article in a fashion magazine about someone struggling with the last 5lbs. (Oh bother 5lbs!) so they would look great in the Vickie's bikini they had just ordered.

And I realized while and as I was reading it "Get over yourself". Woopidi doo dah. Stretch marks and cellulite and hanging parts have nothing on 5lbs.

By the end of the article it mentioned workout to stay healthy not lose weight, but having a weight goal will never be satisfying because you will always want to do 'better' or lose more.

I am not going to be that person who goes the rest of my life feeling sorry for myself for the choices I have made (Having children, not working out all the time, and eating what I want).

My great friend T from Livermore whom I recently got to visit said, "Gosh the way you talked I thought you were going to be huge-you look great!"

Meaning my blog complaining about the extra weight I had and the struggle to stiffen my jiggle that I blab about.

And I am so glad she said that because afterward I thought, "She is right...it did sound like I was ginormous" And even if I feel that way. Most of the time what we feel about ourselves isn't true (especially the negative).

I want to be more toned. I have given up the mentality of "IF only I could wake up and be 123lbs again"

Don't get me wrong there are still times where I think it would be nice if that could magically happen, but I am not basing my happiness, or what I think my life would be like if I was there again.

Looking back at pictures after having my first baby I wore big clothes, pajamas and anything comfy that flowed away from my body. Not becoming or attractive on me.

I didn't realize at the time when my mother scolded me for wearing men's clothes and informed me that I wasn't allowed to take my husbands pajamas anymore that she was doing me a service.

While competitively speaking in college I learned "Look good, feel good" all is in perspective of coarse. College, before the child bearing days (yes I base my timeline on this)

So when I see people who wear scroungy ill fitted clothes and seem to not care at all about their appearance, or the way items fit them I always think "Do they really not value themselves enough to do so?"



So I pose a question to whomever might come across my rant to ask yourself

"Am I feeling frumpy because that is how I dress and act about myself?"

Then ask

"Do you dress your personality?" "Are you frumpy because you really are a dull boring person who doesn't care about your worth?"

Well you are just going to have to get over it, or as my mom would tell me "Well, that sounds like a PP, personal problem".

I am not going to be donning furs, or sporting the obnoxious skinny jean, but I am investing in myself.

To not have so many put downs, to wear clothes that fit well and to be proud of this somewhat mauled body of mine. And yes at a current heavier and less toned size I can buy a hot pair of jeans full price, why punish yourself for being what you are right now?

Sure I dont' have the perky emblems of pre baby, or the tummy of a teenager. I have been noticing wrinkles (which I am blaming on Andrew), but really Mariah get over yourself and enjoy what you have in life.

Because really in the end the Baby made me fat.








Proud point for me:

I don't wear board shorts to the beach anymore. I have for the past 13 years and it took having a baby less tone, more to squeeze into spandex, and a tummy scar to realize:

1. I am not that important that people need to look at me and snap pictures of my 'faults'
2. There is a good feeling that comes with being the only one in a one piece at the beach who isn't afraid of the snow white thighs. I am what I am.

Just when you thought it was over

I had an epiphany the other day. I complain, sure. I endure, sure. But do I enjoy. Heck yes.

So Hubby and I have had this conversation about how life as changed, what we used to do. At times I really miss it. I miss working in heels all day, eating out and then going to the gym. Going to a late night movies and being able to buy pretty clothes on a regular basis.

Would I trade what I have now for something else? Some things I totally would, but I wouldn't ( and obviously) can't change what I have gained and learned.

Being a mommy and a wife has given me the opportunity to learn so much about myself. To learn (and continue to learn) to be less selfish. I have learned that sacraficing at times brings greater happiness.
Like when you decide not to have the second bowl of ice cream and the next day you can use the restroom and aren't all bloated--case and point.

I for a few months kept thinking "Is this the life I signed up for? Is this the life I willingly entered into?"

Obviously we don't know what the future will bring. I don't necessarily believe in fate. I do believe in following what you feel is right.

I look back at where I was and talking with my sister she mentioned what about 10 years ago. And I said, "Do you mean if ten years ago you told me I would be married with two kids and and 30lbs heavier before the age of 25?"

I wallowed a lot after Smandre was born. Besides depression and my personal version of "very gray days" I felt I had lost myself.

I have wallowed a bit after buggy was born and as I was sitting on the floor with hub watching little buggy smile and wiggle I began to cry. "My babies are growing up and it makes me sad"!

I never thought I would ever say that! I felt like I had two babies for the longest time. IT was at that moment that I realize I had grown a little, that I did sign up for this and dang it get over it.

That was my epiphany.

I signed up to be an at home mom. To do housework, play and care for the kids. I signed up to sacrifice my body for months at a time to house a little person who will enrich our family and someday someone else's.

I am happy that I signed up for it. It is a challenge, but dang it this is what I wanted--to be home.

Heck yes at times I grumble and scitter (is that even a word? If not I still like it) around the house in pj's and catch a glimpse of my fuller self and notice the dark circles, but I won't have this time again.

Just when you think its all over. That life as you know it has become too dull and boring. YOu realize. If you sit with your eyes closed weeping with self pity. You miss the beautiful colors that are constantly changing around you. Get over yourself, enjoy it, and jump into it. Nothing is ever as fun as a grumbling spectator.

Nightmare on Sesame street

I'm hiding in the closet next to the stinky jeans that were hung back up after two weeks worth of wear. It is easy to hold my breath. I listen.

"raaaraaa raaa!"

Its still out there" I think to myself as I prepare my body for absolute obedience. I must not move. Make a sound. And whatever I do I can't let the fear escape my body's pores. They smell fear.

"Ladadaaadadada!!!!" It screams toward the closet door.

"I didn't leave a trail did I?" "It didn't see me go in here did it?" my heart has completely stopped beating because of panic. It must have forgotten how to pump blood because I feel my face go white as the door creeps open.

Ugh its breath reaks of milk and even hidden in the dark next to the dingy jeans I can smell it as its mouth opens again in my direction.

My eyes shut. This isn't happening. This isn't happening. This isn't happening.

It will begin at any time to start eating spiders just like in the exorcism of Emily rose. It will contort its body right in front of me. Scowling and darkening its blue eyes to black and begin showing its teeth.

"One, two three four five six!" It hisses at me. My legs tighten closer together and in the process move a shoe that is on the floor next to me.

"Raaaaa. AHHHH! Uhhhhhhh!"

It finds me with its beady eyes and I immediately slump over. I am exhausted. My brain goes into survival mode. I lay my body in sacrafice in front of it.

I fantasize of the treatment I will receive after its done with me. I'll be hooked up to IV's of caffeine. Surrounded by half empy containers of spray whip cream. Dove chocolates will be taped to my wounds for healing and my pants will be unbuttoned so that all the sweet fluids can expand my body in the right way.

"Caaar", "Caaar" it says in a now more intelligible Boston accent.

I am slimed as it sits on top of me and drools, reading my pained expression of surrender. It rubs its face against my 'As of this morning' clean shirt and I hear the snot pull against the green fabric. "It actually thinks the color will camoflauge, maybe it is a hint of my poor taste in clothing" I think.

"You want to go in the Caaar Andrew?" I say while opening my eyes to him

"Caaaar"

"Me too....oh dear Andrew I love you and I think we need a vacation".

On a scale of 1-10 don't even ask

After being saved by my Aunt once again (she had often rescued me with the two kids bringing nourishment from wendy's and a calming body to hold a crying baby). We got into a discussion about husbands and our lives.

We talked about the things you should never ask your husband. Like the questions that could just paint him into a corner where there may not be any right answer.

I avoid those questions and decided that if I didn't want anything, but a significantly honest answer I shouldn't ask it. Afterall, I married a very honest person who isn't what you call 'suave'.

Tonight thinking I am being flirtatious I ask him "do you think I am hot?" I know, I know. By the title of this post you probably know how this story is going to end. He replies "Yes". 1 point for correct answer. I say on a scale of one to ten. He says "I am not going to answer that because there is no right answer".

What? First of all me and my little mind thinks duh say "11"! And I tell him "11" would be the correct answer. He replies "you can't ask questions that you don't want to hear the honest answer. "

At this point I've started scowling and I think "Well, gosh I wish I was someone's 11!"

I sit here in my hand me down moomoo nightgown from my great grandmother from the sixties in synthetic mauve. Why the heck couldn't he just lie to me? I think it would have given him brownie points in heaven if he had.

Seriously, he would have gotten to the pearly white gates and Peter would have said "And what good deeds did you do to be able to enter paradise" and He would have replied proudly " I told my wife she was beautiful even though she hadn't showered in two days and had baby puke on her shirt and mascara smeared all over her face" "I told her she was super hot to me even though she meanders the house at night in a moomoo and last but not least..."

At this point Peter already so impressed leans forward in his walker making the tennis ball covered legs quiver under his excited grasp (You totally know ol' peter is a dinasour and has gotten arthritis from standing there for the past millenia)

He cranes his hooked neck and pushes his ear horn right up to my hsubands unshaven lips not wanting to miss this next good deed.

"When my wife was in labor and was walking around moaning practically nude with her hippo belly, in her hospital room, green headband pushed against her 3 month long roots I told her I had never seen a more beautiful women in the whole world"

"My dear son!" Peter creaks while wiping away tears--because of his cataracts not because of joy--"For all the white lies you told on earth you will have that many more pleasures in Heaven".


So me and my moomoo are still sulking l about our hurt ego's. Her's beause I am not wearing the fancy matching robe with fabric covered buttons, and me because I am not an 11 to the person I chose to marry for the rest of my existence. Humph.

I feel like I should put some curlers in my hair and start smoking a cigarette to finish off the whole tired mom look. If you came over to my house you would probably see more resemblence between me and Maxine then a fresh faced almost 25 year old.

True that I am not 19 anymore, that I am still working off my baby 'muscle' and that I have been known to sport a good inch of leg hair, but I still like to fantasize that what I present to my husband is that red haired college girl without stretch marks and tired eyes.

I would like to believe that I am wearing a full body mask of the girl I once was. And I realize that although a woman I am still a self conscious pre teen at times.

Either way I have learned my lesson.

Don't ask a question that could possibly be answered wrongly. More importantly, when asking a question remember the person your talking to.

Up, down, Up Down

"Up".
"Down"
ahahaha
"Up". "WOW!"

"Down"." WOOOWWWW"

Its amazing how much joy and suffering you can feel for one small, but significant person. Andrew has been complaining in the back seat for the last 5 minutes. I totally know he is bored. I can't imagine having to get strapped in to a seat where my feet don't even touch the ground. Not to mention having a crying sister next to me.

We are in the IN N OUT drive thru line. My best mommy self has prescribed a night of fast mexican food and just to make sure our bones stay healthy and strong milkshakes from the coveted In N OUt burgers.

"Say up"

"Up!". "hahaha"

There was a time in my life ( that I sometimes relive) when I believed that it only took a pure heart be a good mom. Borrowing from the Beatles "All you need is love" is the only way to raise a child. Just kill them with kindness and they'll grow up loving you and themselves and never hit other children, never look you straight in your eyes and throw their plate of food on the ground (you can see how the list could continue on). No, a child reared with all the affection in the world their little hearts could hold would be just a little lamb.

Reality hit me hard the first week I try and nurse Andrew--it doesn't just come naturally to me. I pictured myself while pregnant running to my crying baby in my flowing, white silk gown (the most practical new mom outfit) I pick him up and he is immediatlely comforted by my sense of love and milk.

What I discovered after about 2 days of nursing was the fear/dread/panic of needing to nurse again. IT HURT! I would sit and cringe while he began eating. I would tap my foot and hum a song of comfort. I would think to myself, breath, breath, just breath.


I feel overwhelmed with joy for my little boy who is growing up like all kids do. Then there are glimpses in my mind, of me sitting on a beach listening to waves with a pina colada, calmly breathing in the soft humidity. My obligations are gone, I don't have diapers to change, messes to be cleaned up, and my clothes won't have any more spit stains. I dream of a vacation from mommy obligation. When I won't be needed anymore for things.

Andrew then began to pull off and scream when he was about 2 weeks old. His dad and I would try and burp him. He must have an air bubble, he didn't eat enough. One morning at 3am I called my parent's house on the brink of total crying breakdown "Andrew just cries and cries" I apologize for the hour and my dad responds "Thats okay thats why we are here". Mom gives me suggestions and says she knows how I feel just do the best we can.

We've just ordered and Andrew and I are splitting a chocolate shake, his dad gets a vanilla and buggy is still fussing in the back seat overly tired.

"Say down"
"down.""WOW!"

I still believe mothering is best when used with unconditional love. I haven't of coarse reached my ripe age of perfection to have required this--I still need quite a few more years on the shelf. However, I have learned that pain is unavoidable in the raising of kids. That just when you think you are too tired to change another diaper you are propped up by your kid needing his "poppy"* (which is andrewlation for puppy) a big ol' kiss.

I roll the window back up that is next to Andrew
"Down"
I roll the window down, this time without look at him
"HAhahaha"
Say "UP!"
"Up"
I roll the window back up.

Our bone reniforcers are ready at the window.

I am beginning to understand not only the reality of what is possible in mothering, but I am discovering that being a good mother takes more than the ushy gushies of love. It will take the rest of eternity.

It takes time to help entertain your unhappy toddler. Not just so you can keep your sanity in the metal kid cage, but because you will learn to love to do those things for them. It brings you joy.

"UP"

The aftermath of a baby

I sit here right now in my fleece zip up, after prego jeans and nasty uggs. Yes, my hair is clean, my skin moisturized, and I am actually shaved.
Let me better explain. 15 months ago I was enjoying the first real snow storm in Utah. My size 6 fanny was seated directly on the futon my husband and I bought (our first family room piece) before he graduated from college. We had been in our fixer upper home for over a year and we were planning a trip to Italy. Now for a girl of 22 life was pretty darn good. Around let's say middle of December I conceived. The months following that hot and steamy event my body began expanding.
In little ways at first. My perfect little DD bras soon began to get too snug and when I woke up in the morning I felt as though someone had given me a titty twister. This did little to distract me from my expanding butt.

I know someone may read this and say, "Well, at least you were able to get pregnant"-, but I am not complaining about being pregnant and having an opportunity to help bring into the world a little person. I am simply complaining about the disgusting things it can do to your body. I often think of the quote from the line in the Lion King. "No body know's the trouble I've seen...nobody knows my sorrow". When my family first were clued in to my pregnancy my grandma reminded me, "Now, remember you aren't the only person who is pregnant or ever has been." That basically sums this whole shinanigins up.

I may not be the only one, but I am sure all the others can wallow with me for a little while about it. After getting over the shock of being pregnant (I mean for crying out loud my husband and I don't even sleep in the same beds! ) I began to feel excited for those pregnancy clothes. "Oh when, oh when will I be able to buy those cute tops and rub a cute round tummy?" Little did I know what was coming around the corner. "Little" is the word of focus here. There was not a little anything thing, except for a 'little' baby growing inside me that I imagined looking something between a hybrid seahorse and a frog. By the way, who ever said we evolved from apes? Has anyone ever investigated Frogs? I mean sperm looks like tadpoles right?
Anyways. It became perfectly clear that things were rounding out, when at about 16 weeks my 'fat' jeans came about to mid thigh. I had seen quite a few pregnant women in my life time. The ones with little round balls perfectly centered and balanced in the middle of their torso's and then the women who are repeatedly asked "Are you having twins?". I guess, I just always assumed that I would be one of the basketball belly moms. You know the toothpicks with the little altoid hanging in the middle. I don't know why I thought this. Those women were usually at least 5'7 w/ long legs and flat booties. I was 5'4 w/ dangerous curves-.

I remember the weighing of myself weekly, measuring how much I was supposed to gain--because I didn't want to be one of the popcorn moms--you know the before pregnancy women that conceives and puffs out like a kernel in an air popper? So I kept working out and watching what I ate. I read the "what to expect when expecting book" and nodded my head at the diet suggestions and told my husband how I wasn't going to be that stumpy mom who all of a sudden let herself go. I was better than that. I had class--for crying out loud I drive a used Honda!
I gibbered and jabbered to my vain heart's content. 15 months later all of this pre baby nonsense is sitting right on my butt and hips.

Babies are hard work. Keeping yourself from scowling is hard work and by Golly it is hard work getting a shower in while 24/7 being on call for the little person you helped conceive. For now my grooming methods will stay: Bathe 1 time daily, and brush teeth. Beyond that I don't think people should expect much from a new mom.