How to Succeed in Mothering Without Really Trying

The Ball I Dropped

October 29, 2009
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I’m busy.  I’m VERY busy.   I teach my 2 year old’s Sunday School Class.  I am my kindergarteners room mom.  I am the secretary for the church AWANA group and the coordiantor of my mother’s group.  OH and also raising 3 kids while trying to be the “good wife” (NOT Julianna Margulis, good).  And I have to admit, until tonight, I really thought I was doing a bang-up job.  I thought I had it IN.THE.BAG.  As I was waiting in line to pick up the kids from their class tonight, I happen to be standing next to a good friend.  We only chatted for a few seconds but I quickly realized it had be ages since I’d talked to her.  Or any friend for that matter.  Then it dawned on me.  That was the ball I had dropped.  Mine.  Why are Mom’s like that?  Why are we so quick to let things go that mean something to us?  A question for the ages, I guess. 

So, now I’m home and pretty depressed.  I have really neglected all the wonderful friendships I’ve cultivated over the years and that makes me so sad.  I have to figure out a way to be 12 places at once.  Another “Mommy” question for the ages.


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Battle of the….you know…

September 26, 2009
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So if “real women” have curves, what kind of woman has rolls?  I’m just wondering.  I embarked this week on a journey I’ve traveled many times before.  Weight loss.  And let me tell you what, it sucks.  I’ve never been a skinny girl.  Ever.  It’s hard to go to the beach with your girlfriends and be the only one wearing shorts over her bathing suit because of your ghetto booty and cottage cheese thighs.  It’s hard going shopping for cute clothes when your not a size 8….or even 10.  But you girls know that already.  And you skinny girls might say, “so just stop eating so much, Fatty”.  And you’re right.  There is no one to blame for my condition but me.  I can’t help it.  I love to eat.  indiscriminately.  I eat pretty much everything.  Well, except for peas, they look like perfect little round boogers.  My weakness, my kryptonite, is junk food.  It’s what I was raised on.  Bring on the Hostess Cupcakes, Lay’s Potato Chips (with dip!), ice cream, candy bars – all of it.  I want it all!  I wasn’t skinny when I started college, but I wasn’t large either…..yet.  The weight slowly crept up through 4 years of beer-pounding in college.  Then, a little more once I was married and felt a little more comfortable in “letting myself go” a bit.  The final nail in the coffin was having 3 babies and a miscarriage.  I only mention the miscarriage because my body was really out of sorts for quite a while after that.  And I ate – ALOT following it, just because I didn’t know what to do with myself.

So 2 years ago, following the birth of The Baby, I found myself bigger and more disgusted than I’d ever been.  I saw a picture of myself from the church directory and didn’t know who that person was.  I had NO filter whatsoever.  If I saw something I wanted, I ate it.  We hit McDonald’s regularly because I was too lazy to cook.  I’d run to the grocery store JUST to buy junk snacks.  It was bad.  When the size 16’s started getting tight I had enough.  I refused to go up yet ANOTHER size.  So, my sister-in-law and I decided to try Weight Watchers.  I had been for about 6 months before I got married and it really did work.  I lost about 20 pounds.  Plus, any doctor you talk to will tell you it’s the best way to do it.  So, we went.  I have to admit I had a little help.  I was still nursing The Baby and got an extra 10 points a day!  That was HUGE!  I very often had several points left over after dinner for a “special treat”.  It was awesome.  AND I lost 40 pounds.  Yes folks, you heard me.  I lost 40 pounds.  My husband couldn’t keep his hands off me.  Everyone from family to friends was telling me how awesome I looked.  CLOTHES FIT ME!  I was on a high.  Totally.  Life was great!

“So what happened next, Tara?” you may ask.  Hell if I know.   Your guess is as good as mine.  I got bored?  Tired of counting points?  Tired of worrying how many points that ho-ho was?  I was weaning the baby and historically, my hormones get a little wonky when it comes to nursing.  I go a little NUTSO when my milk comes in and got a lot NUTSO as I’m weaning.  So, there was that going on.  I stopped going to WW.  I stopped paying for WW.  I stopped WW altogether.  I tricked myself into thinking that I had in fact made a lifestyle change and would NEVER go back to my old self.  I tricked myself into thinking I had will power.  Now – a year and a half later – 23 pounds heavier, I know I do not have willpower.  How can that be?  I can stare my strong-willed daughter down for hours and not flinch.  How come I can’t so no to an Oreo ?  How ridiculous is that?  My husband asks me all the time what went wrong.  I just don’t know.

SO – this past Thursday, I dragged my fat, shamed self back to WW.  Hooray for me – they still had my last weight logged in their system.  So , in the little spot on the sticker where it says how many pounds plus or minus you are, it said +23.  Ouch.  I guess I should be glad I went back before I put the whole 40 back on and more.  It’s just depressing to think that I’m going to have to go to meetings….and count points…..for the rest of my life.  Perhaps my real beef is with the big man upstairs.  Why did he make some girls with the capability to eat whatever they want and not gain a pound?  Why did he make me with the capability of gaining 5 pounds when I just drive past a Burger King?  I guess that is my cross to bear.  That and my lazy husband.  And my strong-willed daughter.  And my nagging mother.  And my…..well, we could be here a while.

Well, wish me luck WWW.  My first weigh in will be next Thursday.  I did OK yesterday.  I ate good in the morning and afternoon.  I even went on a walk!  GASP!  But we had dinner plans with friends and may have eaten a little much.  Let’s just say those 35 bank points may have been used in one foul shot.  But it’s OK.  I’m going to recover today.  Walk again.  IGNORE the 3 gallons of ice cream in my fridge.

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Hello world!

September 22, 2009
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My life.  It’s a never-ending advertisement for “Murphy’s Law”.  Seriously.  I’ve been told by more than one well- intentioned friend that I need to write a book about all of the hi-jinks (yeah, you heard me, hi-jinks, I said it) that run my life from day to day.  Sadly, there are not enough hours in a day to write a book.  Who even writes books, anymore anyway?  Come on now, it’s a WWW world.  As hard as I’ve tried to avoid it, I feel the time has come to join the wonderful world of BLOG.  Eessssh.  Makes me cringe just saying it.  My personal opinion on “THE BLOG” is that it’s just another example of how truly narcissistic people are.  Why do I think I’m so hot that everyone out there surfing the web wants to hitch a wave on the latest “dramady” of my life?  Well, I am hot, but that’s beside the point.  Perhaps I’m starting this in lieu of therapy.  Heaven knows I could use some.  But blogging is cheaper.  So that’s what I’ll tell myself for now.  This blog = saving $$.  Hah!  Take THAT recession!

For those who’ve made it this far, WOW.  You must not have young kids.  Because if you’ve managed to read my blog for this long and you DO have kids, you better run and check to make sure they haven’t unrolled the whole toilet paper roll throughout the whole house.  I’ll wait……..go check now……….

OK, are we good?  Just  put the little boogers to bed.  I’ll do a brief bio on my family and then I need to wrap things up for now.  I just caught a wiff of some laundry I washed a few days ago and forgot about.  Awesome.  I love it when I get to wash something not once, but twice.  I’m Tara.  I’m 32 years old.  I’m married to Tommy who is 34.  I am a “stay at home” Mom to our 3 children.  Tommy is a manager for a giant electronics company.  Trust me, you know who they are, and NO I can’t get you a discount.  Our oldest is a 7 year old girl that I’ll call, The Girl.  She’s also a brown-haired, blue-eyed MASTER MANIPULATOR.  It’s a gift really.  She got it fair and square from her Mama.  Strong-willed doesn’t begin to cover all her bases.  She’s a tough cookie.  She’s the pretty pink & frilly thorn in my side.  I constantly walk the narrow tight rope of encouraging her “spirit” but praying for a little oh…what’s the word…..obedience?  Before her strong-willed nature was brought to light, I got pregnant with Baby #2.  A calm, sweet-natured, little boy who we’ll call The Boy.  His tight blond curls and big blue eyes could melt an iceburg.  He’s 5 now and in kindergarten.  It’s my theory that he was the tool that God used to trick me into having another baby.  I figured I had a 50/50 shot at getting another impossible child.  I rolled the dice….and lost.  Baby #3 was another boy and other than the gender thing, an exact replica of his big sister.  Here I’ll just call him, The Baby.  He is 2 now and learning tricks from his big sister on how to “get at” Mom.  It’s very effective, the little racket they’ve got going.  If they’re betting that one day I’ll probably crack, they’re probably right.  I feel like donating a huge sum of money to a local “looney” bin just to ensure I’ll have a nice room once I’m ready to check-in.

So that’s it.  My family in a paragraph.  There are no words that can possibly contain, describe, and do them all justice.  But I’ll try, here, as often as I can.  Or, rather, as often as I need some “therapy”.

My Family.

My Family.

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