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Tag Archives: mama issues

Who’d of thunk it?

I’m beginning to realize that I’m a person who could benefit mentally, not just physically, from getting to the gym on a consistent basis. I’m sure that any fitness specialist, doctor, gym rat, etc. would say, “duh” to my revelation, but even so, it still is a revelation for me.

All throughout school, I loathed gym class. I wasn’t good at anything, and failed almost every part of the Presidential fitness test. (I totally rocked the sit and reach, for what it’s worth.) Every year having a reminder that I failed at gym, even if I didn’t get a failing grade on my report card, well, yeah. Then I went to college and a friend of mine and I decided for some reason it would be a good idea to be gym buddies. We’d go to the gym together I don’t remember how often, but I don’t remember it being a thing that made my life significantly different or better. Since leaving college, I’ve had a few stints of getting to the gym on a semi-regular basis, but don’t remember any significant feeling of “wow, when I get to the gym I feel way better than if I miss a week”.

Last week I didn’t get to the gym at all. First there was a lot of snow, then there was a lot of laziness. I felt like poo by the beginning of this week. Yesterday, I probably could have gone on a murderous rampage from feeling so much like poo. Not physical poo, mentally, like I couldn’t stop being angry or frustrated or annoyed or any of those things. Last night, I decided that I had to get back to the gym because it couldn’t hurt, right? This morning, even though I hadn’t been there yet, I felt more calm. Now that I’ve gone, I feel a zillion times better, calmer, less irritated by insignificant things.

I’m thinking back to that quote from Legally Blonde, “Exercise gives you endorphins. Endorphins make you happy. Happy people just don’t shoot their husbands. They just don’t.” Exactly, Elle Woods. Exactly.

 
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Posted by on January 30, 2014 in mama

 

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The epic meltdown of the century

Ever since my adorable, tiny baby was born, I’ve been looking forward to when we could get back to our previous schedule of frequent outings. Well, not ever since, since for at least a few days to a week I was quite enjoying just sitting around having a normal breastfeeding relationship with my new baby. It wasn’t before long, though, that I realized that my ability to remain calm in the face of my toddler’s inability to remain calm hinged on our ability to get her the hell out of the house. Having a newborn who eats on a regular schedule of all the time put a damper on my ability to go anywhere where I wasn’t just sitting right back down and feeding her again. (Another hindrance in our leaving the house was the factor of how inordinately hot it’s been this summer and my inability to survive and parent when it’s inordinately hot.)

When adorable, tiny newborn was about a month old, after a couple of weeks of increasing tension from seeing only each other all day, every day, the three of us went for a walk to the playground. It went fairly well. Newborn (C) slept in the Ergobaby or nursed almost the entire time. Toddler (G) played with “her friends”, aka kids she just met. There were a few less than optimal aspects to our trip. I should’ve brought the stroller at least for the walk home. I should’ve brought the water bottle. I couldn’t have done anything differently when it came time to leave and C started crying just as G was running away, crying that she didn’t want to leave.

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Posted by on August 13, 2012 in mama

 

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Memorial Day weekend lesson learned

This weekend, I learned a valuable lesson about myself. Or rather, I officially recognized what I’d known about myself for a while yet hadn’t necessarily taken seriously.

If I get overheated, I do not function.

It’s not so much that if it’s warm out, I get a little cranky or if I get warm, I get cranky. If I’m overheated (which is exacerbated by the pregnancy, no doubt), my ability to engage with the world in a respectful way decreases until I’m a raging, frustrated puddle of sweat. I am unable to parent in a way that my child deserves. I am unable to interact with others in a way that they deserve. I am unable to care for myself in a way that I deserve (and even writing that sentence is somewhat difficult in that merely acknowledging that I deserve to be taken care of properly brings up feelings of guilt that I’d be taking time or attention away from caring for my family, but that’s a tangent for another post).

It doesn’t matter what the thermostat says. It doesn’t matter what other people are feeling. If I feel as if I’m overheating, I have to take steps to prevent it from getting out of hand. I have to make myself drink ice water. I have to get myself in front of a fan or in a room with air conditioning. I have to be ok with the possibility that our electricity bill will be higher from running our A/C more frequently, especially if that means that I’m able to treat my family the way they deserve and the way I prefer.

Maybe this kind of thing is obvious. Maybe this kind of self-care/self-awareness is normal for most people. Up until the past few days, though, I’ve been thinking of temperature control in terms of others being comfortable, and if I got too warm, well, I just had to suck it up and deal with it (so said my internal monologue, not anyone else). Sucking it up isn’t working anymore. I’m learning to trust myself, learning to recognize my limitations before I reach them (at least for the most part), and learning to speak up or make changes to prevent myself from turning into the Incredible Sweat Puddle Hulk. Because really, no one wants to see that.

 
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Posted by on May 30, 2012 in mama

 

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Cleanliness, housekeeping, excess.

My parents (I almost said my mother, like it was only her responsibility even though both parents worked outside the home…but that’s a post for some other day when I’m feeling more political) were never great at home maintenance in terms of house cleaning. Cleaning was something to be done in binges before company came over (or for whatever other reason), but we never really got in to a weekly or even monthly cleaning routine. I did have some friends with weekly chores. One friend even had a weekly cleaning time that she would participate in with her whole family, everyone doing their part to keep the house clean. I somewhat kept my room as tidy as i wanted it to be, but never actually cleaned as in dusting or vacuuming.

This makes it sound like our house was a pit of dirt, which it wasnt. Somehow cleaning happened but it was never really on a regular basis and I wouldnt be able to begin to tell you who did what and when. Part of that, though, is due to my inability to remember much of my childhood. (Again, a post for another time and another mindset.) Read the rest of this entry »

 
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Posted by on March 5, 2012 in food

 

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