Saturday, January 23, 2010

Dropping the Baby Weight- I Hope

I started back on the Weight Watchers. It's time. It's actually WAY past time. I have found some co-workers/girlfriends at work to do it with me- Ghetto style, as one of them deemed it. We are weighing in in the nurse's office. We are reporting our food diaries through school e-mail. We are talking about points and how much THIS is worth and THAT is worth. We are holding each other accountable.
I have only been doing if it for three days- but feel tremendously better already- just to have set the ball in motion. I feel motivated and ready to tackle this fer reals this time.
I attempted to "do" Weight Watchers the day I got home from the hospital with Jake. Those efforts proved futile. I was too tired. Too bloated. Too new a Mommy to really stick to it correctly. Plus, now I can exercise. And sleep sometimes- which helps.
I have never been this heavy before- so the road ahead of me seems long- but I know I can make a difference if I maintain the program. I am uncomfortable and really- feel so much better when I don't have to be so worried about the "draping of the cloth" ( aka- getting dressed ) each morning.
My first goal is Feb. 14- date night for my husband and I. The goal? To feel better so I have reason to celebrate. My next goal is summer weather. I don't want to buy a new summer wardrobe- but will have to if I don't get my weight down. My third goal is July. We are going on a beach vacation and I will need to don a bathing suit. I don't want to spend Jake's first beach outings concerned about my spare handles-
At any rate. The way I see it is that I need to lose 40 pounds by July. Do-able. Just have to keep reminding myself how worth it it will be.

Monday, January 18, 2010

Dirty Tale

Several years ago - while trying to shed a few extra unwanted pounds, I opted to go for a diet that had worked for me once before. The Cabbage Soup Diet. Which primarily consists of a homemade soup concocted with water and cabbage.
Saturday was fine. Sunday was fine. Monday was a work day and despite severe stomach pains, was also, basically fine.
Mid-day, I had my free period- and missing one of my best girlfriends that had moved away to LA on me, I decided to go out to my car in the massive parking lot to have a smoke and a chat. And to divert the attention I was focusing on my belly pangs.
Midway through my cigarette and chat, I felt my stomach do some flip-flops. I figured the gas was setting in. I did my best to maintain focus on the conversation. Suddenly, in a burst of rumbly outburst, and while discussing my girlfriends near tragic car accident- I suffered through my own sort of tragic car accident.
I shit my pants.
At first I didn't know it. At first I just assumed that whatever was happening down there would just require a quick exit and a visit to the ladies. After a tiny investigation, via a glance down at my barely khaki, almost white pants.... So not the case.
I interuppted my girlfriend with the news- and suddenly her tragic incident took the back seat to my suddenly urgent predicament.
There was a lot of repeat questions between her and I...
Me: I shit my pants?
She: You shit your pants?
Me: Did I really shit my pants just now?
She: Did you really just shit your pants?
Me: What am I going to do? I have to go back into work!
She: What ARE you going to do?
Me: Do I need to go or what?
She: You DO need to go... call me later and tell me what happens.
And so I did what any other person would do... I wrapped a sweatshirt around my waist and went into the the closest entrance and knocked casually on the first occupied classroom door I could find. A woman approached and apprehensively opened it a crack and I then realized what I was about to have to say to this woman I didn't know.
Me: Look, I am a teacher here... and I just shit my pants, and I have to go. You really need to help me out and tell someone I need a sub. Here is my phone number in case you can't get ahold of anyone. I am leaving the building.. um... NOW.
And off I ran. I couldn't afford to look back.
Feeling completely disgusted, I got back into the safe confines of my car and called my very best gay guy friend- who I knew would help me laugh and sympathize my way through my car ride home.
Upon hearing my story- he declared a state of emergency- after laughing hysterically, of course, and then also called off work so we could nurse me back to a normal emotional state together.
After throwing out the clothes, showering, and demanding I eat some fiber- things started to feel much better.

Within hours, after getting through the larger part of a twelve pack, we actually went out dancing. Never mind that it was a Monday. To me it was a pant's shitting day and I really needed to get some other notch in my belt in order to take the heaviness out of the fact that my most recent noteworthy event was crapping myself at work.

Somehow- because I work with a fat mouth- this story came out at my NEW teaching job. Just last week. Lots of teaching professionals laughing at me. At my story- about the day I pooed my pants. I quickly turned the tables and asked my colleagues if any such thing had ever happened to them. Shockingly- while guffawing uncontrollably at MY story- nary a soul raised their own hand to admit such a dirty tale.

And I call bullshit. I call a good old fashion shit-your-pants-bullshit- because it HAS. It of course has happened to SOMEONE else besides me.

Sunday, January 17, 2010

Six Months In

There has been little to report around here lately other than Jake finally cut his first tooth- which was... well, not my very FAVorite part of parenting and at the same time not the WORST part. He was just.. not that fun is all. Meaning he was not happy. Which in turn meant that he was fussy and therefore I was not happy. And when I say not happy, I do not mean depressed and eating chocolate and listening to sappy music- I just mean up a lot, and cry-y, and generally not in a very jovial mood. And so that is/was that.

In other six month news, he can almost sit up for more than two seconds at a time. He prefers standing and jumping to most other positions. So my arms tend to get a work out. He hates all foods green and likes pretty much anything that will constipate or stop him up. He will learn.

Speaking of which. He's not a big fan of eating... so I can foresee mealtime might be a struggle as time wears on. He would much rather stare at pretty much anything ( ie- a power cord? a pencil? a crumb on the floor? ) rather than eat and tends to get a lot of food everywhere since he likes to first stick his hands in his food, and then on his bib/eyes/hair/feet/nostril etc.
He is learning how to talk- sorta, and has "found his scream". Which means bath time and bed time can be pretty loud. But, for now I am in love with his noises. I am sure I will get over that, but for now it brings me joy.

He's fairly interested in holding his own bottle. He likes a good ride in the car or a toss in the air. He doesn't care for any activity that indicates crawling might independently occur. He prefers instead to sit on laps of big people and lunge at whatever he so chooses- meaning unless you have a fairly tight grip he could fall any which way but loose.

His favorite toy is his Globie- which I suspected he would and so purchased it at Wal-mart on a whim. He also likes soft, chewy, small cloth books that crinkle and beep and jingle and rattle.

What does this all mean? It means that I have become fascinated with his poo color and his puke and his butt rash. Which means that since I am so wrapped up in what HE'S doing, that I have little time left to care for much else. I do not say this begrudgingly- I say it lovingly with a teaspoon of matter-of-fact added in.

I have managed to get myself up at 4:45 in the morning several days a week for a walk on the tread mill. I went to Target the other day all by myself and I did squeeze in a pedicure. I have a ladies brunch and a girlfriend's baby shower on the horizon- so I do not feel super out of the loop.

I think I have just fallen so in love with my little guy that the world as I previously knew it has melted into the background a little bit. I think my husband feels the same- so the fact that we are spending our day off tomorrow shopping at Babies R Us for new bigger-boy car seats does not irritate me as much as it excites me.

We have come a long way these last six months. Happy six months little Jake!

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

What the ???

Where has the time gone?
Christmas and the New Year, come and gone, and me, nary a post to document Jake's first of these. Well, maybe I could do that now- sit, watch, eat bottle, be excited to be held by so many new people, be annoyed to be held by so many new people, sleep fitfully, get off schedule, etc. etc. I guess upon reflecting there is little to document. He's sorta still just along for the ride. And while all the excitement of the holidays certainly didn't get past him- he didn't really have a lot to say about it. And after a few fits and giggles and what not- he was squared away again.
And it's evident that we - meaning his Dad and I, have created a very structure-loving son. I cannot say I blame him. I get it. It's important. It feels good to know what's coming.
He got so many Christmas presents that I ended up spending the majority of my Christmas money on a new shelf for him. And then also read Nineteen Minutes so insisted we buy a gun safe as well to polish off a good portion of the rest of the cash. Is it obvious our lives revolve around him yet?
Then there is me. I weighed myself yesterday morning... after I motivated and did day two of the 5 am wake and tread mill. I couldn't believe the number that glared back up at me- chuckling and menacing. It was like a death sentence. I wanted to muster the energy and garner the sadness it would take to cry like a Biggest Loser contestant- but since I was SO not surprised that was lost on me. Pretty much could only resolve to keep plucking away at it. Anti-climactic if you know what I mean.
In total I have a whopping 35 pounds to shed. That's a lot of weight still hanging on for dear life.
I have to act fast or come bathing suit season I could potentially lock in some unwanted stares. It strikes me as hilarious how the weight I was PREVIOUSLY suddenly seems acceptable. It's all about switching up our standards, no? Because if we were banking on the goal weight from then, well, then I would have a whopping FIFTY pounds to lose! That's like.. a LOT of weight! I would be gaunt... but I bet I would stop bitching. And getting off the couch and functioning altogether- but HEY, I would be skinny!
Anyway- I need to shed a few pounds. I need to post more often and I need to read more books. Resolutions? Maybe. Perhaps. I don't want to go commitment "wild" or anything- as that's never been my thing ( oddly, I tend to rebel against my own SELF ???), but I have some attainable goals.
Life is good.