My workout today was a humbling experience. I walked on the treadmill for 20 minutes at 2.8 mph. I sit here now, after stretching, drenched in sweat, guzzling water and trying to keep my calves from cramping as they scream in discomfort. The reality of today's workout has brought on two different reactions.
The first is disappointment.
I knew I had gained weight. The evidence is clear every time I look into a full-length mirror. But it's very easy to forget how I look in the mirror when I'm not looking into the mirror--it's very easy to see myself as I used to be. And it's very easy to avoid looking into a mirror to avoid facing the reality of myself. The reality of myself is that I weigh 256 pounds. The reality of myself is that walking for 20 minutes on a treadmill exhausted me. The reality of myself is that I drink way too much soda and not enough water, I eat too many wrong foods and not enough right ones. The reality of myself is that I am overweight and unhealthy.
When I first met Chaz I weighed 175 pounds and wore a size 12 jean. Now I wear a size 22/24. When I first met Chaz I could walk for an hour and still have energy to go some more. I was able to run between 1 and 2 miles--and could probably have run more if I so chose, I just hated running. Exercise wasn't a chore, it was part of a daily routine, even if my mother did have to hassle me out the door and get me started.
I look back at what I could do then and see what I can do now and the chasm between the two is huge. And it's not ok. I could use the fact that I've been pregnant twice in the past two and a half years as an excuse for why I've gained this much weight, but that's exactly what it would be. An excuse. I made the decisions that got me to this place--I chose to eat the wrong food, I chose to quit exercising, I hid behind my pregnancies and told myself that I was fine.
But I'm not. Living like this is not ok. Not for me and not for my family. I should have never let myself get like this and now that I have, I am the only one who can do something about it. So I'm starting today.
Which leads to my second reaction: determination.
I used to be healthy and relatively athletic. I want to be that way again. I want to get back to the person I was three years ago--the person who could run and kick box and win martial arts tournaments. I want to feel good about myself. I want to like the person I see in the mirror. I want to quit lying to myself and telling myself that it's ok to look and feel the way I do, because if there's one thing I can say about myself, it's that I've never been a liar. At least, not until now.
My mother turned 50 yesterday and she is running in her second marathon this October. If she can run a marathon at 50 (heck, if the 70 and 80 year olds I saw running last year are running marathons) then I should be able to do the same at half the age. So I have decided that I will be running in the Rock n' Roll Marathon that will take place in St. Louis next October. Unfortunately, I do have to be realistic about the demands on my life right now, including two girls under the age of two and I don't think I will be ready for the marathon this year. But I will be running next year.
I'm declaring it publicly because then I am accountable to someone other than myself. Declaring it makes it real. It's not just a thought in my head that I can quickly discard. People will read it and expect it--so if I don't run next year, then I have once again lied. I will have failed. And failure has never been an option in my life. I will not let it become an option now.
So it starts today. The steps will be small. Change cannot and does not happen overnight. Mistakes will be made. But over the course of many days and many nights I will continue to strive until I am once again looking in the mirror at the person I want to be. Until that day when I can truly look myself in the eye and say "I love you."
26.2, here I come.
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
happiness is what you make of it
Over Memorial Day weekend, I took my two girls and went with my mother to visit the Hardy side of my family (my mother's family) in southeastern Indiana. I've always loved visiting the Hardys, for a number of reasons. The first is that the Hardys are simply the epitome of how I picture a family being--my grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins are all extremely close and incredibly involved in the going ons of each other. --And not in the nosy, gossipy sort of way where people always know one another's business, but in the "I honestly care about what's going on in your life" way.--The Hardys are a unit, plain and simple. Secondly, my grandparents live on a large farm (or at least, what I consider to be large based on the limited backyard space I've had since being a child)--there are plenty of trees, a lake filled with fish and clear starry skies uninhibited by buildings and the ever present haze of smog present in East Alton and Granite City. And finally, the Hardy farm is one of the few places I have found in this world (the others being church and my husband's embrace) where I can truly relax, take a deep breath and be myself.
My grandparents are flanked on either side by one of my two Hardy uncles and their families. As you drive up the two lane highway, you can see all three houses lined up in a row, separated by no more than half a mile, the lake and forest making a gorgeous backdrop. It's pretty much a guarantee that while staying at my grandparents' home for a few days, my uncles, my aunts and my cousins (before we all grew up, headed off to college, jobs, marriages, Korea, etc) will all be frequent visitors. Fish are caught and cooked, dinners are eaten, conversation is had. Often times I spend three or four days in which I watch absolutely no TV, have no reception on my cell phone and no internet access. Any other time in any other place, such circumstances might bother me. But not there. There the company, the peace and serenity is more than enough to satisfy me.
Before moving to Granite City, IL in 2000, my family lived not too far from the small town in which the Hardy clan resides. While many memories were made during the childhood years I spent in Indiana, I don't think I've come to truly appreciate that time and place until very recently. The Hardys live what most would consider a relatively simple life. Spare time is spent fishing in the lake or tending small vegetables gardens. Chores include caring for the small herd of cows that now reside on the farm, as well as general upkeep on the fences and homes and mowing the numerous acres of grass. My grandparents have very basic cable and no computer or internet. While this might seem extremely boring to some (and while it used to seem quite boring to me, especially as a child) I am coming to realize that I crave that simplicity and the camaraderie that comes with it. I am learning to appreciate the "small" things that more and more seem to be so much bigger than I ever thought them to be. Staring up at the stars, listening to the crickets and bullfrogs as they belt out nature's symphony, breathing in fresh air. All these things lead to a sense of utter happiness and contentment--almost.
It's a five hour drive from here to there. My mother and I have made the trip many many times together and during these drives we have had many many heart to heart talks. Subjects have ranged from religion to relationships, politics to nothing all that important. While we were leaving to come back home this past Monday, Memorial Day, as we were driving through my grandparents' small town for the last time (at least the last time of this particular trip) my mother and I were talking about how we both had been thinking about how we might like to move back to the area, how much we missed it. I said to my mother that I was going to talk to Chaz about the possibility of moving "back home" as I call it--Chaz has always been a country boy at heart and I'm coming to find that I pretty much am a country girl myself, at least from my own perspective. I said that I thought I could probably learn to be really happy there. My mother's response was that I could learn to be happy anywhere--happiness is what I make of it.
I've taken a few days to think about that and have come to the conclusion that my mother is a very wise woman. I've thought about the things that really make me happy: Chaz, my girls, my relationship with God. What's great about all those things is that I can have them anywhere. Chaz and I have lived as a married couple in East Alton for two and a half years now and I know I have said on many occasions that I wanted to get out of East Alton, that I wasn't truly happy there. But if I really think about it, in the true sense of being happy, I am extremely happy here. Because all I've ever wanted is right here. I have a loving and supportive husband, two beautiful daughters and a strong and involved church family. Everything I need is right at my fingertips. As much as I might want other things in my life, as much as I have dreams I want to pursue, in the end, the ultimate source of my happiness is already in my possession.
As I said earlier, I love visiting the Hardy farm. I loved getting to "go home" for the weekend this past weekend. But at some point every day, the contentment I felt was interrupted by a longing for Chaz. I missed him. He wasn't able to come along on the trip due to his work schedule, so the weekend was in a way incomplete. The happiness I felt had a hole that wouldn't be filled until I was back in my husband's arms.
So yes, happiness is what you make of it. Happiness comes with the things that mean the most to you. In my case, being happy has absolutely nothing to do with where I'm at, but rather with the people I'm sharing that place with. So if it is in God's plan for us to move, whether it be to Indiana or Tennessee or one of the other numerous places we've talked about moving or if it is His plan for us to live out the rest of our days in this purple house in East Alton, so be it. I've made my happiness and the equation to it is very simple. Me + God + Chaz + Aubrey + Daphnie = smiley face. Our address just didn't fit in.
My grandparents are flanked on either side by one of my two Hardy uncles and their families. As you drive up the two lane highway, you can see all three houses lined up in a row, separated by no more than half a mile, the lake and forest making a gorgeous backdrop. It's pretty much a guarantee that while staying at my grandparents' home for a few days, my uncles, my aunts and my cousins (before we all grew up, headed off to college, jobs, marriages, Korea, etc) will all be frequent visitors. Fish are caught and cooked, dinners are eaten, conversation is had. Often times I spend three or four days in which I watch absolutely no TV, have no reception on my cell phone and no internet access. Any other time in any other place, such circumstances might bother me. But not there. There the company, the peace and serenity is more than enough to satisfy me.
Before moving to Granite City, IL in 2000, my family lived not too far from the small town in which the Hardy clan resides. While many memories were made during the childhood years I spent in Indiana, I don't think I've come to truly appreciate that time and place until very recently. The Hardys live what most would consider a relatively simple life. Spare time is spent fishing in the lake or tending small vegetables gardens. Chores include caring for the small herd of cows that now reside on the farm, as well as general upkeep on the fences and homes and mowing the numerous acres of grass. My grandparents have very basic cable and no computer or internet. While this might seem extremely boring to some (and while it used to seem quite boring to me, especially as a child) I am coming to realize that I crave that simplicity and the camaraderie that comes with it. I am learning to appreciate the "small" things that more and more seem to be so much bigger than I ever thought them to be. Staring up at the stars, listening to the crickets and bullfrogs as they belt out nature's symphony, breathing in fresh air. All these things lead to a sense of utter happiness and contentment--almost.
It's a five hour drive from here to there. My mother and I have made the trip many many times together and during these drives we have had many many heart to heart talks. Subjects have ranged from religion to relationships, politics to nothing all that important. While we were leaving to come back home this past Monday, Memorial Day, as we were driving through my grandparents' small town for the last time (at least the last time of this particular trip) my mother and I were talking about how we both had been thinking about how we might like to move back to the area, how much we missed it. I said to my mother that I was going to talk to Chaz about the possibility of moving "back home" as I call it--Chaz has always been a country boy at heart and I'm coming to find that I pretty much am a country girl myself, at least from my own perspective. I said that I thought I could probably learn to be really happy there. My mother's response was that I could learn to be happy anywhere--happiness is what I make of it.
I've taken a few days to think about that and have come to the conclusion that my mother is a very wise woman. I've thought about the things that really make me happy: Chaz, my girls, my relationship with God. What's great about all those things is that I can have them anywhere. Chaz and I have lived as a married couple in East Alton for two and a half years now and I know I have said on many occasions that I wanted to get out of East Alton, that I wasn't truly happy there. But if I really think about it, in the true sense of being happy, I am extremely happy here. Because all I've ever wanted is right here. I have a loving and supportive husband, two beautiful daughters and a strong and involved church family. Everything I need is right at my fingertips. As much as I might want other things in my life, as much as I have dreams I want to pursue, in the end, the ultimate source of my happiness is already in my possession.
As I said earlier, I love visiting the Hardy farm. I loved getting to "go home" for the weekend this past weekend. But at some point every day, the contentment I felt was interrupted by a longing for Chaz. I missed him. He wasn't able to come along on the trip due to his work schedule, so the weekend was in a way incomplete. The happiness I felt had a hole that wouldn't be filled until I was back in my husband's arms.
So yes, happiness is what you make of it. Happiness comes with the things that mean the most to you. In my case, being happy has absolutely nothing to do with where I'm at, but rather with the people I'm sharing that place with. So if it is in God's plan for us to move, whether it be to Indiana or Tennessee or one of the other numerous places we've talked about moving or if it is His plan for us to live out the rest of our days in this purple house in East Alton, so be it. I've made my happiness and the equation to it is very simple. Me + God + Chaz + Aubrey + Daphnie = smiley face. Our address just didn't fit in.
Sunday, May 20, 2012
We took my in-laws out to dinner this past week for Mother's Day. We took them to one of our favorite restaurants in Edwardsville. Unfortunately, the experience (in my personal opinion) was not one of the best I've had in all of my restaurant experiences, which was sad really because the service at this particular restaurant is usually very very good.
Here's how the day went:
Before we'd even gotten fully seated our waitress came up and asked us what she could get us to drink. (I was trying to get Daphnie's infant seat settled in the sling they brought and we had to remind the waitress we needed a high chair for Aubrey--she was still in my father-in-law's lap at this point.) Since none of us had had a chance to even pick up a menu yet, we all ordered water. When our water came out, she asked if we were ready to order. My father-in-law, having never been to the restaurant, was still perusing the very extensive menu so we told her we needed a few extra minutes. Before she left, however, I went ahead and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea (one of the daily drink specials) while my husband debated over whether or not he wanted a margarita for $3.99 (another of the specific drink specials). He literally said, in front of the waitress, "Hmm, do I want a margarita for $3.99?" to which the waitress replied, "Who doesn't?" So Chaz ordered a strawberry margarita on the rocks. With a quick smile and no further comment, our waitress left to put in our drink orders.
She came back about ten minutes later to take our food orders. Our drinks had not arrived yet, but I figured it was busy so I didn't think much of it. We ordered our food, including a children's meal for Aubrey which included a glass of milk. A while later (at least ten minutes) the waitress came by with a refill on our water. Aubrey was fussing and reaching for my in-laws' drinks, so I said to her (making sure the waitress could hear), "Don't worry, Aubrey, your drink will be out in just a minute." Luckily, she managed to take the hint and brought out the milk. Our drinks had still not arrived at this point. So I'm starting to get irritated because as I look around I notice that the restaurant is not filled to capacity, which is an oddity, and there are not more than 3 or 4 people at the bar. In my mind, I cannot fathom any reason that it should have been almost half an hour before we receive our drinks. So when the waitress is passing by next, Chaz gets her attention and asks her what's taking so long with the drinks. Her response: **giggle** Oops, I left them sitting on the bar, I'm so sorry. **giggle, giggle** I'll go get them for you. It then takes her another five minutes to bring them out. By the time she brings our drinks, our food has already arrived.
When she does get around to bringing the drinks out, Chaz's order is not right. She's brought him a frozen strawberry margarita instead of one on the rocks. I tell him to
Here's how the day went:
Before we'd even gotten fully seated our waitress came up and asked us what she could get us to drink. (I was trying to get Daphnie's infant seat settled in the sling they brought and we had to remind the waitress we needed a high chair for Aubrey--she was still in my father-in-law's lap at this point.) Since none of us had had a chance to even pick up a menu yet, we all ordered water. When our water came out, she asked if we were ready to order. My father-in-law, having never been to the restaurant, was still perusing the very extensive menu so we told her we needed a few extra minutes. Before she left, however, I went ahead and ordered a Long Island Iced Tea (one of the daily drink specials) while my husband debated over whether or not he wanted a margarita for $3.99 (another of the specific drink specials). He literally said, in front of the waitress, "Hmm, do I want a margarita for $3.99?" to which the waitress replied, "Who doesn't?" So Chaz ordered a strawberry margarita on the rocks. With a quick smile and no further comment, our waitress left to put in our drink orders.
She came back about ten minutes later to take our food orders. Our drinks had not arrived yet, but I figured it was busy so I didn't think much of it. We ordered our food, including a children's meal for Aubrey which included a glass of milk. A while later (at least ten minutes) the waitress came by with a refill on our water. Aubrey was fussing and reaching for my in-laws' drinks, so I said to her (making sure the waitress could hear), "Don't worry, Aubrey, your drink will be out in just a minute." Luckily, she managed to take the hint and brought out the milk. Our drinks had still not arrived at this point. So I'm starting to get irritated because as I look around I notice that the restaurant is not filled to capacity, which is an oddity, and there are not more than 3 or 4 people at the bar. In my mind, I cannot fathom any reason that it should have been almost half an hour before we receive our drinks. So when the waitress is passing by next, Chaz gets her attention and asks her what's taking so long with the drinks. Her response: **giggle** Oops, I left them sitting on the bar, I'm so sorry. **giggle, giggle** I'll go get them for you. It then takes her another five minutes to bring them out. By the time she brings our drinks, our food has already arrived.
When she does get around to bringing the drinks out, Chaz's order is not right. She's brought him a frozen strawberry margarita instead of one on the rocks. I tell him to
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Dilemma
I am going to present the accounting of something that happened to me. I am going to be as honest and truthful in the presentation as I possibly can be, as much as memory allows me to be (for any psych majors out there, we all know that personal memories can be faulty). For the sake of anonymity I will change the names of some of the people involved. For anyone who is familiar with any or all parts of this accounting, please do not reveal identities, even if you are aware of them.
The reason I am going to present this is because it has bothered me for some time and I am not sure how to go about resolving it. Perhaps it cannot be resolved left as it is now. Or perhaps I simply need to let go. If that is the case, then I must learn how to do so. Whatever the outcome may be, this issue has weighed heavily on my mind for almost two years now and I am hoping that by writing it down I may find some sense of inner peace and reconciliation.
Here goes:
"G" and I have been best friends since our freshman year of high school. We met during volleyball tryouts a few weeks before the school year started. We both made the team and both had the unfortunate luck of being talented but apparently not talented enough to actually play. We spent the majority of the season working our asses off at practice and our only reward was to warm the bench while our coach's six favorite people played all the time, win or lose. That was all it took. We bonded that fall and while we suffered ups and downs in our friendship throughout our four years of high school and beyond, we always managed to stay really close.
After we graduated from high school, I left to attend college near Chicago. "G" stayed here in the Metro East to attend school and knock out her gen eds. A year and a half later, broke and homesick, I came home to attend school and we shared a semester together at the same university. That fall, "G" left to attend a specialized veterinary technician program at another school. Soon after she started working at a local animal hospital.
The following year I was in need of a new job and the animal hospital at which "G" worked was in need of a triage nurse/receptionist. She told me about the job, I applied and was soon after offered the job. Who would have thought that after all the different paths we'd taken, we'd end up working at the same place, a lot of times on the same shifts (or at least overlapping shifts)? I couldn't have been happier. We got to see each other more often than we had since high school, we were able to keep up in each other's lives and lend a hand or an ear when one was needed.
When my dad suffered a seizure that fall, "G" drove me to the hospital from work. We took another drive to the hospital when I got bitten by a rottweiler on the job. When her car broke down, I drove her around. We knew we always had a place to stay if we ever needed to crash somewhere. We exchanged talk about our love lives--or at least we talked about hers. At the time, mine was pretty much nonexistent. She started dating a guy pretty seriously that fall and always had stories to tell.
In December of that year, I met the guy I would eventually marry. When we met he worked a job that didn't allow him much social time, but when he was home and able to be social, I quickly introduced him to "G" and her boyfriend and the four of us spent a lot of time together. We'd go out to bars, we went dancing a few times, they'd come over to house for a BBQ or a bonfire. My husband (at that time, boyfriend) would hit on "G" because she was an attractive girl and he's simply a guy (that's what he does), but it was always nothing more than a friendly flirtation. When "G's" boyfriend expressed concern over my boyfriend's flirting with his girlfriend, I asked my boyfriend to back off. When "G" and I talked about it, she said it didn't worry or upset her at all.
The following November, I lost my virginity to my fiance (we had picked a date for the wedding already but hadn't announced it yet). Immediately afterwards, that same night, I told "G" what had happened. She was the person I went to--not my parents, not my brother, not my soon to be sister-in-law. I told "G." And two weeks later when I found out I was pregnant, she was the first one I told after telling my fiance. She was ecstatic for me. During that phone conversation, I also told her that my fiance and I would be getting married in six weeks (we figured upping the date instead of waiting til July when I was 8 months pregnant was the better idea) and I asked her if she would be my maid of honor. She quickly agreed and jumped into helping me plan what she could for the wedding.
She threw my bachelorette party. She stood up for me at my wedding. She gave the toast at my reception. She was my best friend.
A few months later, she ended her relationship with her boyfriend. My husband's best man had developed quite the crush on "G" when he came up for our wedding and my husband, ever the matchmaker, called his best friend up when "G" became single, determined to hook the two of them up. His best friend did indeed come up to stay for a few days and I called "G" to see if we could all get together one night. (As best as I can remember, it had been a few weeks since "G" and I had last talked when we had this particular phone conversation.) She said that yes, we could come over to her place but that "B" might stop by at some point during the evening, so to not be surprised if he showed up.
"B" was one of "G's" exes from high school. She had broken up with him before graduation because he had become extremely jealous and possessive of her and she was uncomfortable with it. After high school, "B" had married another girl and moved a fair distance away. According to "G" during this phone conversation, "B's" wife had cheated on him, then packed up and left him. Not wanting to be that far away from home by himself, he had come home and contacted "G," looking for a friend. I was suspicious and asked "G" if she was thinking of getting back together with him and she said no, they were just friends, he just needed someone to talk to.
****I later heard from multiple other sources that "B's" wife had not cheated on him, but that he had actually cheated on her and that's why she left--you can believe what you want, as I do.****
So my husband, his best friend and I went over to "G's" place one night to hang out and play cards and drink a bit (I was not drinking, as I was pregnant). We were having a good time, and of course my husband's best friend was flirting with and hitting on "G." While she may not have encouraged his attentions, she did not seem unhappy about them and made no effort to stop them. About halfway through the evening, "B" arrived. He walked in and seemed genuinely shocked and immediately ticked off that there were two men hanging out at "G's" place. After walking in and saying a hesitant hello, he proceeded to hang up his coat, take his shoes off and tell "G" that he'd decided to "come home" for his lunch break (he had found a job working nights). He stayed for 20 minutes or so and then left.
After he left, the three of us razzed her a bit about his calling her place "home" and acting like he lived with her. She admitted at that point that he hadn't had a place to stay so he was crashing with her for a while until he could get back on his feet. My husband and his friends being guys, they started razzing her about sleeping with him. She vehemently denied such claims, continuing to say that she and "B" were just friends, especially considering he was still officially married.
I called her a few days later to get the real scoop on "B" since I felt in my gut that she hadn't been completely honest about what was going on with him, but I figured she hadn't felt comfortable talking about it in front of the guys, which I didn't blame her for. She admitted that she and "B" had talked about getting back together, that he had changed and wanted her back, but that they had both agreed that nothing would happen until he was officially separated and divorced from his wife, which could take up to six months at the very least. As unhappy as I might have been about the situation (I had never liked "B" all that much and thought "G" deserved better) I told her I supported her decision if that was what she really wanted and I thought it was smart of them to wait until the legalities were finalized.
A few weeks later I was at my sister-in-law's apartment, visiting. I was about seven months pregnant at this time. I texted "G" to let her know that my husband's best friend would be coming up for a few days again and to see if she might want to get together and hang out while he was here. I will be honest (as hard as it is to be) and say that I was purposely trying to get her around my husband's best friend because I was hoping she might fall for him and tell "B" to hit the road. She replied that she didn't know if she could and besides, she didn't think "B" would like it all that much. I asked her what did it matter what he thought at this point, it wasn't like they were together or anything. She texted back that actually, they were. They had decided to get together (some amount of time ago, I honestly don't remember what she said) but they hadn't told anybody yet. They didn't want anybody to know until his divorce was finalized. Concerned for her and her reputation, I told her to be careful, that people would talk and I didn't want to see her get hurt. Her reply was "f*** people, I don't give a damn about what other people say." At that point, I asked her if she didn't care, then why was she keeping it a secret? Keeping it a secret indicated that both she and "B" felt like it was wrong and that was why they didn't want people to know. If she didn't care about people's opinions, then why not be open about it up front? She then sent me a text ranting about how "B's" wife was a lying, cheating b**ch and why wasn't I on her side? I told her I was, that again, I just didn't want her to be the center of people's cruel and malicious gossip. I didn't want people calling her a homewrecker--she was better than that and I didn't want to see her hurt. I don't remember if she answered me or not and if she did, I don't remember what was said.
At this point, I did something that turned out to be really, really stupid. I make it a point to never post anything argumentative or petty or anything that can be construed as a personal attack on facebook--even more so after this incident--because I don't feel as though facebook is the forum for such things. But that day, following the conversation I had with "G," I posted as my status: I love my friends. I love my friends. Even when they do something stupid, I love my friends." The status didn't gain any comments, so I thought nothing of it.
The next week, "G" sent me a text saying something along the lines of, "You know, if you have a problem with me, you should just tell me instead of writing nasty things about me on facebook." Those were not her exact words, I am sure, but that was the gist. I asked her what she was talking about (as if I didn't already know) and she told me that I damn well knew what she was talking about, that status I'd put about her doing something really stupid. A friend of hers had seen the post and pointed it out to her and she was pissed. I told her that she had no idea whether that post was directed at her or not, that it could be about any one of my friends doing any one of a number of things. In doing so I didn't admit to writing it about her, but I felt that I wasn't totally lying to her about it either, when in fact, that's exactly what I was doing. Part of the reason I didn't want to tell her it was about her was because I didn't think she'd get that upset over something that I considered very small and inconsequential. But she had taken it as a betrayal, as me talking about her behind her back.
I tried to call her (our conversation had consisted of texts to this point) but she would not answer her phone. I asked her why she wouldn't answer my call and she replied that she didn't want to talk to me in person. What followed was a rant of texts telling me that my husband was a "deadbeat ass**** loser," so I had no business passing judgment on who she chose to be with, that I had turned into a selfish b**ch who only thought about herself ever since I started dating my husband and hanging out with his "b**chy" sister and that I had made the biggest mistake of my life when I married my husband. When I asked her why she hadn't told me any of this sooner (like, anytime in the past year and a half since I met him) she told me that we hadn't really been friends for a while, that she had only been pretending to be my friend and she hadn't said anything to me because she didn't want to hurt my feelings. Those exact words I remember clearly.
Absolutely stunned and shocked, I asked how long she had felt this way? Had she felt this way when she stood up as my maid of honor? She reiterated that she had felt that way almost since I had started dating my husband and again said that she thought I had made a mistake marrying him, everybody else thought so too, but no one wanted to hurt my feelings, so they'd stayed quiet. Not knowing what else to say, I didn't reply. I set my phone down and burst into tears.
A few months later, after my daughter was born, "G" and I made contact. I can't remember if she contacted me or if I contacted her, but however it happened, she wanted to meet the baby and could we meet up for lunch somewhere? I agreed, hoping that we would talk about what had happened and clear the air. I was still extremely hurt over what she had said, but had come to the conclusion that she had spoken out of anger and hadn't meant what she'd said (or so I hoped). Lunch was awkward. We made small talk and she went crazy over my daughter, but nothing was said about the conversation that had taken place a few months prior. I kept waiting for her to bring it up, hoping she'd apologize, but she didn't and somehow, I couldn't bring it up myself. I wasn't sure how to bring it up, what to say. I was still very confused about my feelings regarding the entire situation. Lunch ended and we went our separate ways, that conversation still a silent chasm with the two of us on either ends.
At some point after the lunch date, "G" called me (or texted me, I don't remember) to tell me she was pregnant with "B's" baby. There was no mention of whether or not his divorce had been finalized, there was no mention of whether or not they were planning on getting married. Simply, she was having a married man's baby and she was thrilled about it. I tried to find some sort of happiness and congratulations for her, but I couldn't. She had told me she was going to throw my baby shower and then bailed two weeks before it was supposed to happen, thanks to a lovely text conversation. She hadn't come to see me in the hospital when my daughter was born. She had shown no inclination in spending any real time with me or my daughter since that single lunch date that accomplished nothing. I wanted to be happy for her. But I wasn't. Here she was, expecting me to congratulate her and be happy for her because she was having a baby out of wedlock. She had said horrible things about my husband, made a mockery of her best friend status by indicating her support as my maid of honor when she (according to her) thought I was making a mistake by getting married and then hadn't talked to me for months on end. And she wanted me to be happy for her? For her bastard?
I hated myself for thinking the way I did. I managed to text her back congratulations, but there was no feeling behind it. Or if there was feeling, it was resentment, anger, hurt, perhaps even a little hatred.
After that I began to see her status updates on facebook about how her pregnancy was progressing and then when the baby was born, there were pictures. I couldn't bear to see her happy after the hurt she'd caused me and I hated myself for wishing her unhappiness. I hated myself for resenting her happiness, thinking she didn't deserve it. So soon after I deleted her as a friend on facebook, believing it would be easier to let go of that chapter of my life if I didn't have a daily reminder of it.
I don't think of "G" nearly as often as I used to. But I do still think of her. And when I do, I still suffer the onslaught of confused emotions and I wonder how I'm supposed to feel. Is it ok to feel the way I do? I go to church and hear about forgiveness but wonder if I've ever truly forgiven her for the things she said and the hurt she caused. And if I haven't, how am I supposed to do that now? How do I reach that forgiveness when I can't forget what happened and still get angry when I think about it? How much of a hypocrite does it make me if I can't forgive her? How am I supposed to feel about the fact that I miss her? I miss the person who was my best friend for a decade--am I betraying my husband by missing her and wanting that friendship back, even if I know it can never be? How do I let go, if letting go is indeed what I need to do?
If you'd made it this far (and I truly appreciate it if you have), I would now ask for your thoughts. Your honest thoughts. Please, please, please don't do what she did--don't worry about hurting my feelings. If you think I am wrong for saying or thinking or feeling a certain way, please say so!! I am looking for a way to put this issue to rest and I need to know how to do that. I haven't been able to figure it out on my own, so please, if you have a thought, I encourage you to share it. You will be doing me a great service and you have my thanks.
The reason I am going to present this is because it has bothered me for some time and I am not sure how to go about resolving it. Perhaps it cannot be resolved left as it is now. Or perhaps I simply need to let go. If that is the case, then I must learn how to do so. Whatever the outcome may be, this issue has weighed heavily on my mind for almost two years now and I am hoping that by writing it down I may find some sense of inner peace and reconciliation.
Here goes:
"G" and I have been best friends since our freshman year of high school. We met during volleyball tryouts a few weeks before the school year started. We both made the team and both had the unfortunate luck of being talented but apparently not talented enough to actually play. We spent the majority of the season working our asses off at practice and our only reward was to warm the bench while our coach's six favorite people played all the time, win or lose. That was all it took. We bonded that fall and while we suffered ups and downs in our friendship throughout our four years of high school and beyond, we always managed to stay really close.
After we graduated from high school, I left to attend college near Chicago. "G" stayed here in the Metro East to attend school and knock out her gen eds. A year and a half later, broke and homesick, I came home to attend school and we shared a semester together at the same university. That fall, "G" left to attend a specialized veterinary technician program at another school. Soon after she started working at a local animal hospital.
The following year I was in need of a new job and the animal hospital at which "G" worked was in need of a triage nurse/receptionist. She told me about the job, I applied and was soon after offered the job. Who would have thought that after all the different paths we'd taken, we'd end up working at the same place, a lot of times on the same shifts (or at least overlapping shifts)? I couldn't have been happier. We got to see each other more often than we had since high school, we were able to keep up in each other's lives and lend a hand or an ear when one was needed.
When my dad suffered a seizure that fall, "G" drove me to the hospital from work. We took another drive to the hospital when I got bitten by a rottweiler on the job. When her car broke down, I drove her around. We knew we always had a place to stay if we ever needed to crash somewhere. We exchanged talk about our love lives--or at least we talked about hers. At the time, mine was pretty much nonexistent. She started dating a guy pretty seriously that fall and always had stories to tell.
In December of that year, I met the guy I would eventually marry. When we met he worked a job that didn't allow him much social time, but when he was home and able to be social, I quickly introduced him to "G" and her boyfriend and the four of us spent a lot of time together. We'd go out to bars, we went dancing a few times, they'd come over to house for a BBQ or a bonfire. My husband (at that time, boyfriend) would hit on "G" because she was an attractive girl and he's simply a guy (that's what he does), but it was always nothing more than a friendly flirtation. When "G's" boyfriend expressed concern over my boyfriend's flirting with his girlfriend, I asked my boyfriend to back off. When "G" and I talked about it, she said it didn't worry or upset her at all.
The following November, I lost my virginity to my fiance (we had picked a date for the wedding already but hadn't announced it yet). Immediately afterwards, that same night, I told "G" what had happened. She was the person I went to--not my parents, not my brother, not my soon to be sister-in-law. I told "G." And two weeks later when I found out I was pregnant, she was the first one I told after telling my fiance. She was ecstatic for me. During that phone conversation, I also told her that my fiance and I would be getting married in six weeks (we figured upping the date instead of waiting til July when I was 8 months pregnant was the better idea) and I asked her if she would be my maid of honor. She quickly agreed and jumped into helping me plan what she could for the wedding.
She threw my bachelorette party. She stood up for me at my wedding. She gave the toast at my reception. She was my best friend.
A few months later, she ended her relationship with her boyfriend. My husband's best man had developed quite the crush on "G" when he came up for our wedding and my husband, ever the matchmaker, called his best friend up when "G" became single, determined to hook the two of them up. His best friend did indeed come up to stay for a few days and I called "G" to see if we could all get together one night. (As best as I can remember, it had been a few weeks since "G" and I had last talked when we had this particular phone conversation.) She said that yes, we could come over to her place but that "B" might stop by at some point during the evening, so to not be surprised if he showed up.
"B" was one of "G's" exes from high school. She had broken up with him before graduation because he had become extremely jealous and possessive of her and she was uncomfortable with it. After high school, "B" had married another girl and moved a fair distance away. According to "G" during this phone conversation, "B's" wife had cheated on him, then packed up and left him. Not wanting to be that far away from home by himself, he had come home and contacted "G," looking for a friend. I was suspicious and asked "G" if she was thinking of getting back together with him and she said no, they were just friends, he just needed someone to talk to.
****I later heard from multiple other sources that "B's" wife had not cheated on him, but that he had actually cheated on her and that's why she left--you can believe what you want, as I do.****
So my husband, his best friend and I went over to "G's" place one night to hang out and play cards and drink a bit (I was not drinking, as I was pregnant). We were having a good time, and of course my husband's best friend was flirting with and hitting on "G." While she may not have encouraged his attentions, she did not seem unhappy about them and made no effort to stop them. About halfway through the evening, "B" arrived. He walked in and seemed genuinely shocked and immediately ticked off that there were two men hanging out at "G's" place. After walking in and saying a hesitant hello, he proceeded to hang up his coat, take his shoes off and tell "G" that he'd decided to "come home" for his lunch break (he had found a job working nights). He stayed for 20 minutes or so and then left.
After he left, the three of us razzed her a bit about his calling her place "home" and acting like he lived with her. She admitted at that point that he hadn't had a place to stay so he was crashing with her for a while until he could get back on his feet. My husband and his friends being guys, they started razzing her about sleeping with him. She vehemently denied such claims, continuing to say that she and "B" were just friends, especially considering he was still officially married.
I called her a few days later to get the real scoop on "B" since I felt in my gut that she hadn't been completely honest about what was going on with him, but I figured she hadn't felt comfortable talking about it in front of the guys, which I didn't blame her for. She admitted that she and "B" had talked about getting back together, that he had changed and wanted her back, but that they had both agreed that nothing would happen until he was officially separated and divorced from his wife, which could take up to six months at the very least. As unhappy as I might have been about the situation (I had never liked "B" all that much and thought "G" deserved better) I told her I supported her decision if that was what she really wanted and I thought it was smart of them to wait until the legalities were finalized.
A few weeks later I was at my sister-in-law's apartment, visiting. I was about seven months pregnant at this time. I texted "G" to let her know that my husband's best friend would be coming up for a few days again and to see if she might want to get together and hang out while he was here. I will be honest (as hard as it is to be) and say that I was purposely trying to get her around my husband's best friend because I was hoping she might fall for him and tell "B" to hit the road. She replied that she didn't know if she could and besides, she didn't think "B" would like it all that much. I asked her what did it matter what he thought at this point, it wasn't like they were together or anything. She texted back that actually, they were. They had decided to get together (some amount of time ago, I honestly don't remember what she said) but they hadn't told anybody yet. They didn't want anybody to know until his divorce was finalized. Concerned for her and her reputation, I told her to be careful, that people would talk and I didn't want to see her get hurt. Her reply was "f*** people, I don't give a damn about what other people say." At that point, I asked her if she didn't care, then why was she keeping it a secret? Keeping it a secret indicated that both she and "B" felt like it was wrong and that was why they didn't want people to know. If she didn't care about people's opinions, then why not be open about it up front? She then sent me a text ranting about how "B's" wife was a lying, cheating b**ch and why wasn't I on her side? I told her I was, that again, I just didn't want her to be the center of people's cruel and malicious gossip. I didn't want people calling her a homewrecker--she was better than that and I didn't want to see her hurt. I don't remember if she answered me or not and if she did, I don't remember what was said.
At this point, I did something that turned out to be really, really stupid. I make it a point to never post anything argumentative or petty or anything that can be construed as a personal attack on facebook--even more so after this incident--because I don't feel as though facebook is the forum for such things. But that day, following the conversation I had with "G," I posted as my status: I love my friends. I love my friends. Even when they do something stupid, I love my friends." The status didn't gain any comments, so I thought nothing of it.
The next week, "G" sent me a text saying something along the lines of, "You know, if you have a problem with me, you should just tell me instead of writing nasty things about me on facebook." Those were not her exact words, I am sure, but that was the gist. I asked her what she was talking about (as if I didn't already know) and she told me that I damn well knew what she was talking about, that status I'd put about her doing something really stupid. A friend of hers had seen the post and pointed it out to her and she was pissed. I told her that she had no idea whether that post was directed at her or not, that it could be about any one of my friends doing any one of a number of things. In doing so I didn't admit to writing it about her, but I felt that I wasn't totally lying to her about it either, when in fact, that's exactly what I was doing. Part of the reason I didn't want to tell her it was about her was because I didn't think she'd get that upset over something that I considered very small and inconsequential. But she had taken it as a betrayal, as me talking about her behind her back.
I tried to call her (our conversation had consisted of texts to this point) but she would not answer her phone. I asked her why she wouldn't answer my call and she replied that she didn't want to talk to me in person. What followed was a rant of texts telling me that my husband was a "deadbeat ass**** loser," so I had no business passing judgment on who she chose to be with, that I had turned into a selfish b**ch who only thought about herself ever since I started dating my husband and hanging out with his "b**chy" sister and that I had made the biggest mistake of my life when I married my husband. When I asked her why she hadn't told me any of this sooner (like, anytime in the past year and a half since I met him) she told me that we hadn't really been friends for a while, that she had only been pretending to be my friend and she hadn't said anything to me because she didn't want to hurt my feelings. Those exact words I remember clearly.
Absolutely stunned and shocked, I asked how long she had felt this way? Had she felt this way when she stood up as my maid of honor? She reiterated that she had felt that way almost since I had started dating my husband and again said that she thought I had made a mistake marrying him, everybody else thought so too, but no one wanted to hurt my feelings, so they'd stayed quiet. Not knowing what else to say, I didn't reply. I set my phone down and burst into tears.
A few months later, after my daughter was born, "G" and I made contact. I can't remember if she contacted me or if I contacted her, but however it happened, she wanted to meet the baby and could we meet up for lunch somewhere? I agreed, hoping that we would talk about what had happened and clear the air. I was still extremely hurt over what she had said, but had come to the conclusion that she had spoken out of anger and hadn't meant what she'd said (or so I hoped). Lunch was awkward. We made small talk and she went crazy over my daughter, but nothing was said about the conversation that had taken place a few months prior. I kept waiting for her to bring it up, hoping she'd apologize, but she didn't and somehow, I couldn't bring it up myself. I wasn't sure how to bring it up, what to say. I was still very confused about my feelings regarding the entire situation. Lunch ended and we went our separate ways, that conversation still a silent chasm with the two of us on either ends.
At some point after the lunch date, "G" called me (or texted me, I don't remember) to tell me she was pregnant with "B's" baby. There was no mention of whether or not his divorce had been finalized, there was no mention of whether or not they were planning on getting married. Simply, she was having a married man's baby and she was thrilled about it. I tried to find some sort of happiness and congratulations for her, but I couldn't. She had told me she was going to throw my baby shower and then bailed two weeks before it was supposed to happen, thanks to a lovely text conversation. She hadn't come to see me in the hospital when my daughter was born. She had shown no inclination in spending any real time with me or my daughter since that single lunch date that accomplished nothing. I wanted to be happy for her. But I wasn't. Here she was, expecting me to congratulate her and be happy for her because she was having a baby out of wedlock. She had said horrible things about my husband, made a mockery of her best friend status by indicating her support as my maid of honor when she (according to her) thought I was making a mistake by getting married and then hadn't talked to me for months on end. And she wanted me to be happy for her? For her bastard?
I hated myself for thinking the way I did. I managed to text her back congratulations, but there was no feeling behind it. Or if there was feeling, it was resentment, anger, hurt, perhaps even a little hatred.
After that I began to see her status updates on facebook about how her pregnancy was progressing and then when the baby was born, there were pictures. I couldn't bear to see her happy after the hurt she'd caused me and I hated myself for wishing her unhappiness. I hated myself for resenting her happiness, thinking she didn't deserve it. So soon after I deleted her as a friend on facebook, believing it would be easier to let go of that chapter of my life if I didn't have a daily reminder of it.
I don't think of "G" nearly as often as I used to. But I do still think of her. And when I do, I still suffer the onslaught of confused emotions and I wonder how I'm supposed to feel. Is it ok to feel the way I do? I go to church and hear about forgiveness but wonder if I've ever truly forgiven her for the things she said and the hurt she caused. And if I haven't, how am I supposed to do that now? How do I reach that forgiveness when I can't forget what happened and still get angry when I think about it? How much of a hypocrite does it make me if I can't forgive her? How am I supposed to feel about the fact that I miss her? I miss the person who was my best friend for a decade--am I betraying my husband by missing her and wanting that friendship back, even if I know it can never be? How do I let go, if letting go is indeed what I need to do?
If you'd made it this far (and I truly appreciate it if you have), I would now ask for your thoughts. Your honest thoughts. Please, please, please don't do what she did--don't worry about hurting my feelings. If you think I am wrong for saying or thinking or feeling a certain way, please say so!! I am looking for a way to put this issue to rest and I need to know how to do that. I haven't been able to figure it out on my own, so please, if you have a thought, I encourage you to share it. You will be doing me a great service and you have my thanks.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
One of the Many Things I'd Never Thought I'd Do
***DISCLAIMER: I will be writing about my father in this post. Please note that this is written from my point of view as I personally remember it. My father would tell you differently....very differently. But seeing as it's my blog, my point of view is the right one. :)
In most families (or at least the number of families I've been exposed to) there is a sense of balance in the kitchen. If one person cooks dinner, the other cleans up afterwards. If the parents cook then the kids are responsible for washing and drying the dishes (or in this day and age perhaps loading the dishwasher). Sometimes turns are taken when it comes to the cooking and cleaning. None of these scenarios happened (at least regularly) throughout the years of my growing up.
My dad was the king of the kitchen. The kitchen was his domain and no one dared enter without permission. My dad has always taken great pleasure in the culinary arts and while my mother was always the baker in the family, Dad was definitely the cook. And everybody knew it. When Dad started pulling out the pots and pans and ingredients and utensils to start making dinner, everybody knew to stay out of his way. This never bothered me as a child. It was just the way things were and I never questioned it.
As I got older, however, I began to take note of my mother's nagging my father to "let the kids help--they need to learn to cook." And as I got older, I began to want to help my dad in the kitchen. By the time I was in high school, amongst the school day, homework, extracurricular activities and a part-time job, I didn't see my dad all that often, so helping him out in the kitchen would give me a chance to talk to him, catch him up on how things were going, etc. Or so I thought.
The first time I went to help my dad in the kitchen, he set me to chopping vegetables. "You gotta learn the basics before you can learn the hard stuff," he'd say. Well, I put in my time chopping vegetables--it was all he ever let me do. I became an expert at chopping. Unfortunately, chopping vegetables became the limit of my kitchen experience and cooking abilities. I finally got sick of being able to do nothing else and so I quit asking Dad if I could help. I found more enjoyable things to do with my time.
Fast forward a few years or so to today. I am a housewife and stay-at-home mom and I do not know how to cook. This creates a bit of a problem. People always say that girls marry their fathers and in a lot of ways that is true in my case. Chaz is very much like my father (although both Chaz and my dad will vehemently deny that claim) and he does know how to cook. However, five days a week he works from 3 to 11pm and is not home to make dinner. Which leaves me a bit in a lurch.
Five, ten years ago when I would look ahead and picture my life, I never saw myself as a housewife. Yet here I am. And I never pictured myself as being in kitchen, let alone enjoying being in a kitchen. However, I am finding that I take great pleasure in spending time in the kitchen. I've started looking for recipes that I find intriguing and want to try out. I taught myself how to cook bacon (ok, ok, I googled how to cook bacon and followed the instructions--and yes, I am aware of how pitiful that sounds). I have come to enjoy the task of grocery shopping and then putting the groceries away when I get home.
Which brings me to one of the many things I never thought I would do. Chaz and I have been talking for a while now about the things we both need to start doing to get healthy and lose weight. So today, I went grocery shopping. I made a list before I went and I bought only the things on my list. I came home with NONE of the following items (which not so long ago, say, last week, were very common items in my shopping cart): chips, soda, ice cream, candy, microwavable dinners, frozen pizzas or fried chicken. I came home with fresh fruits, fresh and frozen vegetables (including a butternut and spaghetti squash which I have no idea how to cook, but speaking of google, that's what it's for, right?), lean chicken, pork and beef, and almonds and trail mix for healthy snacks.
Upon arriving home and unloading all of the groceries, I proceeded to start rationing out the things that were bought in bulk. I know for a fact how easy it is to open a bag of almonds or a bag of trail mix and just munch. And munch. And munch. And munch a little more. And before you know it, the bag is gone in one, maybe two sittings.
There are sixteen servings of almonds in the bag I bought. One serving is 160 calories. No one, especially Chaz or myself, needs to sit down and consume 2,560 calories at one time. That's your whole daily caloric intake for Pete's sake.
So in addition to the groceries, I bought ziploc bags. And now things are broken down into serving sizes so that Chaz and I can be more aware of how much we're eating and better limit ourselves to how much we take in. The chicken breasts, pork and hamburger were split similarly with one portion in the fridge for us to cook and the rest in the freezer for now. And now I'm looking up ways to cook squash and healthy ways to eat chicken and snacking on fresh strawberries instead of potato chips.
I'm getting involved in my kitchen and while I may be a novice at the moment, I am thoroughly enjoying the education!
In most families (or at least the number of families I've been exposed to) there is a sense of balance in the kitchen. If one person cooks dinner, the other cleans up afterwards. If the parents cook then the kids are responsible for washing and drying the dishes (or in this day and age perhaps loading the dishwasher). Sometimes turns are taken when it comes to the cooking and cleaning. None of these scenarios happened (at least regularly) throughout the years of my growing up.
My dad was the king of the kitchen. The kitchen was his domain and no one dared enter without permission. My dad has always taken great pleasure in the culinary arts and while my mother was always the baker in the family, Dad was definitely the cook. And everybody knew it. When Dad started pulling out the pots and pans and ingredients and utensils to start making dinner, everybody knew to stay out of his way. This never bothered me as a child. It was just the way things were and I never questioned it.
As I got older, however, I began to take note of my mother's nagging my father to "let the kids help--they need to learn to cook." And as I got older, I began to want to help my dad in the kitchen. By the time I was in high school, amongst the school day, homework, extracurricular activities and a part-time job, I didn't see my dad all that often, so helping him out in the kitchen would give me a chance to talk to him, catch him up on how things were going, etc. Or so I thought.
The first time I went to help my dad in the kitchen, he set me to chopping vegetables. "You gotta learn the basics before you can learn the hard stuff," he'd say. Well, I put in my time chopping vegetables--it was all he ever let me do. I became an expert at chopping. Unfortunately, chopping vegetables became the limit of my kitchen experience and cooking abilities. I finally got sick of being able to do nothing else and so I quit asking Dad if I could help. I found more enjoyable things to do with my time.
Fast forward a few years or so to today. I am a housewife and stay-at-home mom and I do not know how to cook. This creates a bit of a problem. People always say that girls marry their fathers and in a lot of ways that is true in my case. Chaz is very much like my father (although both Chaz and my dad will vehemently deny that claim) and he does know how to cook. However, five days a week he works from 3 to 11pm and is not home to make dinner. Which leaves me a bit in a lurch.
Five, ten years ago when I would look ahead and picture my life, I never saw myself as a housewife. Yet here I am. And I never pictured myself as being in kitchen, let alone enjoying being in a kitchen. However, I am finding that I take great pleasure in spending time in the kitchen. I've started looking for recipes that I find intriguing and want to try out. I taught myself how to cook bacon (ok, ok, I googled how to cook bacon and followed the instructions--and yes, I am aware of how pitiful that sounds). I have come to enjoy the task of grocery shopping and then putting the groceries away when I get home.
Which brings me to one of the many things I never thought I would do. Chaz and I have been talking for a while now about the things we both need to start doing to get healthy and lose weight. So today, I went grocery shopping. I made a list before I went and I bought only the things on my list. I came home with NONE of the following items (which not so long ago, say, last week, were very common items in my shopping cart): chips, soda, ice cream, candy, microwavable dinners, frozen pizzas or fried chicken. I came home with fresh fruits, fresh and frozen vegetables (including a butternut and spaghetti squash which I have no idea how to cook, but speaking of google, that's what it's for, right?), lean chicken, pork and beef, and almonds and trail mix for healthy snacks.
Upon arriving home and unloading all of the groceries, I proceeded to start rationing out the things that were bought in bulk. I know for a fact how easy it is to open a bag of almonds or a bag of trail mix and just munch. And munch. And munch. And munch a little more. And before you know it, the bag is gone in one, maybe two sittings.
There are sixteen servings of almonds in the bag I bought. One serving is 160 calories. No one, especially Chaz or myself, needs to sit down and consume 2,560 calories at one time. That's your whole daily caloric intake for Pete's sake.
So in addition to the groceries, I bought ziploc bags. And now things are broken down into serving sizes so that Chaz and I can be more aware of how much we're eating and better limit ourselves to how much we take in. The chicken breasts, pork and hamburger were split similarly with one portion in the fridge for us to cook and the rest in the freezer for now. And now I'm looking up ways to cook squash and healthy ways to eat chicken and snacking on fresh strawberries instead of potato chips.
I'm getting involved in my kitchen and while I may be a novice at the moment, I am thoroughly enjoying the education!
Monday, May 14, 2012
Mother's Day
You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but every now and again I find myself a bit blindsided by how things have changed since I got married. Yesterday was Mother's Day. Three years ago and all the years before that Mother's Day would have gone something like this:
I'd have gotten up and gotten ready for church with my mother, father and brother. My father would have bought corsages for my mother and me to wear to church. Church would have been followed by coming home and presenting Mom with whatever cards and gifts had been bought for her. Mom would then relax on the couch and for one day have full control of the remote (much to the horror of my father--but it was Mother's Day, so he coped) and then in the late afternoon/early evening, dinner would be had. Mom would have chosen the menu and my brother and I usually went partially hungry because Mom would have picked something with mushrooms or olives or some other icky ingredient that my brother and I simply couldn't stomach. Nevertheless, Mother's Day was always a good day.
Fast forward three years and as a married woman and mother, here's how Mother's Day went:
I got up and took my two girls to church with me. They're too young for corsages, so no flowers were had. Everyone at church wished me a Happy Mother's Day, instead of my mother. I received a number of texts from friends and family expressing the same sentiments. I left church to find my Mother's Day gift lashed to my windshield by the windshield wipers--thanks be had to my sneaky husband. I got home with the girls and awaited the arrival of my in-laws. They arrived shortly after and a few hours later, my husband's older sister showed up. We spent the afternoon talking and simply enjoying each other's company. Later on in the evening I had a nice online chat with my husband's younger sister. My interaction with my own mother on Mother's Day was limited to a five minute phone conversation.
Now, before people get the wrong idea, let me say that of the two scenarios listed above, one is not better than the other. They are simply different. I had a perfectly wonderful Mother's Day yet. The whole point of this is that it takes a day like yesterday to remind me how strongly ensconced I've become in my husband's family. I married Chaz and was immediately enveloped into the lives of his parents, his brother, his sisters and their kids. While my bonds with them have become much stronger over the last two years, the bonds between myself and my own parents and brother, haven't become weaker, but have become a bit looser, you might say. I've become fully enmeshed into the Robertson clan. I have, in fact, ceased to be a Feicho and become a Robertson.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with this and no one on either side of my family, Feicho or Robertson, would say they have a problem with this. It just takes me by surprise sometimes. My Mother's Day was spent as a Robertson with the Robertsons (ok, technically my in-laws are Browns, but for the sake of this particular argument we're going to conveniently forget that).
Changes aside, it was an awesome Mother's Day.
On a final note, I would simply like to say that I love BOTH of my mothers very dearly and would not be surviving as a mother myself without all their love, support and guidance. Loreea and Tonya--I love you. Happy Mother's Day.
I'd have gotten up and gotten ready for church with my mother, father and brother. My father would have bought corsages for my mother and me to wear to church. Church would have been followed by coming home and presenting Mom with whatever cards and gifts had been bought for her. Mom would then relax on the couch and for one day have full control of the remote (much to the horror of my father--but it was Mother's Day, so he coped) and then in the late afternoon/early evening, dinner would be had. Mom would have chosen the menu and my brother and I usually went partially hungry because Mom would have picked something with mushrooms or olives or some other icky ingredient that my brother and I simply couldn't stomach. Nevertheless, Mother's Day was always a good day.
Fast forward three years and as a married woman and mother, here's how Mother's Day went:
I got up and took my two girls to church with me. They're too young for corsages, so no flowers were had. Everyone at church wished me a Happy Mother's Day, instead of my mother. I received a number of texts from friends and family expressing the same sentiments. I left church to find my Mother's Day gift lashed to my windshield by the windshield wipers--thanks be had to my sneaky husband. I got home with the girls and awaited the arrival of my in-laws. They arrived shortly after and a few hours later, my husband's older sister showed up. We spent the afternoon talking and simply enjoying each other's company. Later on in the evening I had a nice online chat with my husband's younger sister. My interaction with my own mother on Mother's Day was limited to a five minute phone conversation.
Now, before people get the wrong idea, let me say that of the two scenarios listed above, one is not better than the other. They are simply different. I had a perfectly wonderful Mother's Day yet. The whole point of this is that it takes a day like yesterday to remind me how strongly ensconced I've become in my husband's family. I married Chaz and was immediately enveloped into the lives of his parents, his brother, his sisters and their kids. While my bonds with them have become much stronger over the last two years, the bonds between myself and my own parents and brother, haven't become weaker, but have become a bit looser, you might say. I've become fully enmeshed into the Robertson clan. I have, in fact, ceased to be a Feicho and become a Robertson.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with this and no one on either side of my family, Feicho or Robertson, would say they have a problem with this. It just takes me by surprise sometimes. My Mother's Day was spent as a Robertson with the Robertsons (ok, technically my in-laws are Browns, but for the sake of this particular argument we're going to conveniently forget that).
Changes aside, it was an awesome Mother's Day.
On a final note, I would simply like to say that I love BOTH of my mothers very dearly and would not be surviving as a mother myself without all their love, support and guidance. Loreea and Tonya--I love you. Happy Mother's Day.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Doubles
Doubles are the hardest. Whenever Chaz works a double, that wondrous 16 hour shift that has him gone 18 hours once you figure in driving time, I come very close to going crazy. Don't get me wrong, I love my girls. They are the pride and joy of my life and I would not trade them or my job as a mother for anything. But damn, doubles are the hardest.
It was never our intention to have two children this close together. We'd always known we wanted more than one kid (we're still debating between 3, 4 or 5) but we'd always pictured them being 2-3 years apart, minimum. Not 19 months apart. That was why when we had Aubrey I got onto what was supposed to be the most effective form of birth control other than abstinence. Apparently, I'm ridiculously fertile and terribly unlucky (or, depending on how you want to look at it, terribly lucky). Anyway, when Aubrey was a scant 11 months old, another stick turned pink. Lucky me.
Many people have told me that in the end it will be a blessing to have two girls this close together and they're probably right. Give it another year, year and a half and they'll both be old enough to entertain each other without much help from me (not saying that I won't be involved because I definitely will be. But chances are when I need a five minute break, they won't notice my absence as immediately as they do now. ) But right now, having a seven week old that is much clingier than her sister ever was and a toddler that isn't used to having to share the attention, 18 hours with both of them on my own can be a real challenge.
It absolutely never fails that they both start fussing at the same time. Aubrey can't have her crises when Daphnie is sleeping and Daphnie can't wait to eat when Aubrey has just tripped and stubbed a toe. Everything happens at once and I have two screaming children who want attention and want it NOW. Oftentimes it makes for a whopping headache, which may I say, does NOT help the situation.
I often wonder if God gave me two children this close together to teach me patience and love. I have never failed to admit that patience has never been one of my virtues. I have also never failed to admit that I can be an extremely vindictive person. I'm not proud of it, it's just the way I am. But I have to be patient with my kids. I can't cuss them out when I get mad and storm out of the room. I can't ignore them. I can't scream at the top of my lungs and burst into tears (although I have come very close to doing that in the past). I have to simply take a deep breath, remind myself that they are only babies and I am responsible for their care. Unfortunately, on an extremely trying day (like today has been), by hour 11 or 12, deep breaths start being hard to come by.
As hard as the doubles are and as frustrated as I can get, they are a reminder to me of how blessed I truly am for the family and support system I have. I probably don't say thank you enough to the people that are always more than willing to lend a hand (or an ear) when I need help. I have two wonderful parents and two wonderful in-laws. My girls couldn't ask for better grandparents. My brother and sister-in-law are a Godsend, often taking the girls for multiple days at a time so that Chaz and I can have a breather. My niece and nephew live right down the road and 9 times out of 10 are looking for some baby practice. I am extremely grateful to each and every one of them and the impact they've made on my life.
Doubles are definitely the hardest. But God has given me help as long as I'm not too proud to ask for it--and trust me, I'm learning to simply ask for it. If I don't, chances are I might not make it through the day. :)
It was never our intention to have two children this close together. We'd always known we wanted more than one kid (we're still debating between 3, 4 or 5) but we'd always pictured them being 2-3 years apart, minimum. Not 19 months apart. That was why when we had Aubrey I got onto what was supposed to be the most effective form of birth control other than abstinence. Apparently, I'm ridiculously fertile and terribly unlucky (or, depending on how you want to look at it, terribly lucky). Anyway, when Aubrey was a scant 11 months old, another stick turned pink. Lucky me.
Many people have told me that in the end it will be a blessing to have two girls this close together and they're probably right. Give it another year, year and a half and they'll both be old enough to entertain each other without much help from me (not saying that I won't be involved because I definitely will be. But chances are when I need a five minute break, they won't notice my absence as immediately as they do now. ) But right now, having a seven week old that is much clingier than her sister ever was and a toddler that isn't used to having to share the attention, 18 hours with both of them on my own can be a real challenge.
It absolutely never fails that they both start fussing at the same time. Aubrey can't have her crises when Daphnie is sleeping and Daphnie can't wait to eat when Aubrey has just tripped and stubbed a toe. Everything happens at once and I have two screaming children who want attention and want it NOW. Oftentimes it makes for a whopping headache, which may I say, does NOT help the situation.
I often wonder if God gave me two children this close together to teach me patience and love. I have never failed to admit that patience has never been one of my virtues. I have also never failed to admit that I can be an extremely vindictive person. I'm not proud of it, it's just the way I am. But I have to be patient with my kids. I can't cuss them out when I get mad and storm out of the room. I can't ignore them. I can't scream at the top of my lungs and burst into tears (although I have come very close to doing that in the past). I have to simply take a deep breath, remind myself that they are only babies and I am responsible for their care. Unfortunately, on an extremely trying day (like today has been), by hour 11 or 12, deep breaths start being hard to come by.
As hard as the doubles are and as frustrated as I can get, they are a reminder to me of how blessed I truly am for the family and support system I have. I probably don't say thank you enough to the people that are always more than willing to lend a hand (or an ear) when I need help. I have two wonderful parents and two wonderful in-laws. My girls couldn't ask for better grandparents. My brother and sister-in-law are a Godsend, often taking the girls for multiple days at a time so that Chaz and I can have a breather. My niece and nephew live right down the road and 9 times out of 10 are looking for some baby practice. I am extremely grateful to each and every one of them and the impact they've made on my life.
Doubles are definitely the hardest. But God has given me help as long as I'm not too proud to ask for it--and trust me, I'm learning to simply ask for it. If I don't, chances are I might not make it through the day. :)
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Christianity vs. Homosexuality
I have noticed that the raging debate regarding Christianity/religion and homosexuality has been rather hot lately. For the past few weeks, I have not been able to scroll through my Facebook feed without seeing a status update, a video post, an article post, etc, relating to the subject in some aspect or another. Normally, I don't get involved in the online debates because unless all participants involved are willing to be understanding and adult-like, things usually get nasty on one side, the other or both. But. thanks to a video post my friend Laura posted, I have decided to put my two cents in on the subject. For anyone interested in watching the video, here is the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DSXJzybEeJM&feature=youtu.be
I will say upfront that I am a Christian. I regularly attend church. Like most self-proclaimed Christians, I believe that the act of homosexuality is wrong. ***PLEASE DO NOT THROW IN THE TOWEL AND QUIT READING. PLEASE LET ME FINISH.*** I will also say upfront that I am flawed. I am a sinner. I have during the course of my life lied, stolen, committed adultery, disobeyed my parents, driven over the speed limit, coveted the possessions of others, wished harm upon others, as well as a plethora of other sins that I couldn't name.
As a Christian, I have been brought up in the teaching of both the Law and the Gospel--the two parts which make up the Bible. According to the law, all of the sins I have committed which are listed above are equally as bad as homosexuality. So, although I have never had sex with another woman (and I will not lie to myself and others and say that the thought has never crossed my mind) I am just as accountable to God for all of the sins I have committed. So who am I to judge those who are gay? How can I call them out for their wrongdoing when I can not control my own?
Again, I will say that I am a Christian. I will also say that it at time shames me to see how other people who claim to be Christians handle this ongoing debate. From the discussions I have seen and read, it seems that those on the Christian side of the debate are always quick to quote the Bible when asked why they believe homosexuality is wrong. Their answer is always: well, the Bible says so. And then they quote such passages as Leviticus 18:22 (Do not practice homosexuality; it is a detestable sin), Leviticus 20:13 (The penalty for homosexual acts is death to both parties. They have committed a detestable act...) and Genesis 19: 1-29 (the story of Sodom and Gomorrah in which God destroys the cities due to rampant homosexuality). Here is the problem with quoting such passages--they are part of the Law. Specifically the mentioned passages from Leviticus--they are part of a whole set of rules that were laid down for the Israelites to follow. They also include laws such as "Do not plant your field with two kinds of seed" (Leviticus 19:19)--guess all the farmers are going to hell. "Do not exploit the foreigners who live in your land. They should be treated like everyone else and you must love them as you love yourselves" (Leviticus 19: 33)--ok, so any company in this country that uses illegal aliens for labor, sorry, you're damned too. Oh, and my personal favorite: "Do not trim off the hair on your temples or clip the edges of your beards" (Leviticus 19:27). So, have you ever gotten a haircut? Sorry to tell you, but you're f***ed. Sounds a bit ridiculous, doesn't it?
I have two issues when it comes to using quotations from the Bible to defend one's stance against homosexuality (and again I will reiterate, I am a Christian!). The first is that as mentioned above, most passages are pulled from the Old Testament, or the Law, which detailed a lifestyle that was set down for God's chosen people, specifically the Israelites or later on known as Jews. What must be known about the Law is that IT WAS FULFILLED!!! That was Christ's whole point for coming down to earth. He came down as the perfect Son of God and lived a perfect life. He was tortured and then placed on a cross where he died for ALL sins. He didn't just die for Christians. He died for everyone--that includes homosexuals, as well as Muslims, Buddhists, athiests, murderers, thieves, etc. He died for all sins--including homosexuality. Through Christ's death and resurrection, all sins are forgiven. Here are some Bible quotes for you: "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18), "As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us." (Psalm 103:12), "For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life" (John 3:16). You cannot use the Law to condemn because Christ already was condemned. The Law has been fulfilled. Sins have been forgiven.
My second issue comes from Christians quoting Scriptures as if homosexuality is so much more wrong or sinful than anything else. Again, their go-to answer is that the Bible says it is wrong. The Bible says A LOT of things are wrong. For example: Romans 2:18-32--"But God shows his anger from heaven against ALL sinful, wicked people who push the truth away from themselves....So God let them go ahead and do whatever shameful things their hearts desired...Even the women turned against the natural way to have sex and instead indulged in sex with each other. And the men, instead of having normal sexual relationships with women, burned with lust for each other. Men did shameful things with other men and, as a result, suffered within themselves the penalty they so richly deserved.....When they refused to acknowledge God, he abandoned them to their evil minds and let them do things that should never be done. Their lives became full of every kind of wickedness, sin, greed, hate, envy, murder, fighting, deception, malicious behavior and gossip. They are backstabbers, haters of God, insolent, proud, and boastful. They are forever inventing new ways of sinning and are disobedient to their parents. They refuse to understand, break their promises and are heartless and unforgiving. " (For the sake of space, some of the passage has been omitted.) The point of this passage is that it is not just homosexuality that is wrong--so is every other sin listed, INCLUDING being UNFORGIVING. Think about that for a moment: God finds it just as abhorrent for someone to not forgive another as He does a man sleeping with another man. For all you "Christians" out there that love to judge, remember that before you paint another "All gays are going to hell" sign for your next protest.
And another passage:, 1 Corinthians 6:9-11--"Don't you know that those who do wrong with have no share in the Kingdom of God? Don't fool yourselves. Those who indulge in sexual sin....adulterers, male prostitutes, homosexuals....none of these will have a share in the kingdom of God....but now your sins have been washed away....You have been made right with God because of what the Lord Jesus Christ and the Spirit of our God have done for you." Yes, the Bible says homosexuality is a sin. It also says that adultery is a sin. So, if like me, you have had sex outside of marriage or if you have had sex with multiple partners, you are just as sinful as someone who is gay. And someone who is gay is just as forgiven as you.
I will say upfront that I am a Christian. I regularly attend church. Like most self-proclaimed Christians, I believe that the act of homosexuality is wrong. ***PLEASE DO NOT THROW IN THE TOWEL AND QUIT READING. PLEASE LET ME FINISH.*** I will also say upfront that I am flawed. I am a sinner. I have during the course of my life lied, stolen, committed adultery, disobeyed my parents, driven over the speed limit, coveted the possessions of others, wished harm upon others, as well as a plethora of other sins that I couldn't name.
As a Christian, I have been brought up in the teaching of both the Law and the Gospel--the two parts which make up the Bible. According to the law, all of the sins I have committed which are listed above are equally as bad as homosexuality. So, although I have never had sex with another woman (and I will not lie to myself and others and say that the thought has never crossed my mind) I am just as accountable to God for all of the sins I have committed. So who am I to judge those who are gay? How can I call them out for their wrongdoing when I can not control my own?
Again, I will say that I am a Christian. I will also say that it at time shames me to see how other people who claim to be Christians handle this ongoing debate. From the discussions I have seen and read, it seems that those on the Christian side of the debate are always quick to quote the Bible when asked why they believe homosexuality is wrong. Their answer is always: well, the Bible says so. And then they quote such passages as Leviticus 18:22 (Do not practice homosexuality; it is a detestable sin), Leviticus 20:13 (The penalty for homosexual acts is death to both parties. They have committed a detestable act...) and Genesis 19: 1-29 (the story of Sodom and Gomorrah in which God destroys the cities due to rampant homosexuality). Here is the problem with quoting such passages--they are part of the Law. Specifically the mentioned passages from Leviticus--they are part of a whole set of rules that were laid down for the Israelites to follow. They also include laws such as "Do not plant your field with two kinds of seed" (Leviticus 19:19)--guess all the farmers are going to hell. "Do not exploit the foreigners who live in your land. They should be treated like everyone else and you must love them as you love yourselves" (Leviticus 19: 33)--ok, so any company in this country that uses illegal aliens for labor, sorry, you're damned too. Oh, and my personal favorite: "Do not trim off the hair on your temples or clip the edges of your beards" (Leviticus 19:27). So, have you ever gotten a haircut? Sorry to tell you, but you're f***ed. Sounds a bit ridiculous, doesn't it?
I have two issues when it comes to using quotations from the Bible to defend one's stance against homosexuality (and again I will reiterate, I am a Christian!). The first is that as mentioned above, most passages are pulled from the Old Testament, or the Law, which detailed a lifestyle that was set down for God's chosen people, specifically the Israelites or later on known as Jews. What must be known about the Law is that IT WAS FULFILLED!!! That was Christ's whole point for coming down to earth. He came down as the perfect Son of God and lived a perfect life. He was tortured and then placed on a cross where he died for ALL sins. He didn't just die for Christians. He died for everyone--that includes homosexuals, as well as Muslims, Buddhists, athiests, murderers, thieves, etc. He died for all sins--including homosexuality. Through Christ's death and resurrection, all sins are forgiven. Here are some Bible quotes for you: "Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow" (Isaiah 1:18), "As far as the east is from the west, So far has He removed our transgressions from us." (Psalm 103:12), "For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life" (John 3:16). You cannot use the Law to condemn because Christ already was condemned. The Law has been fulfilled. Sins have been forgiven.
My second issue comes from Christians quoting Scriptures as if homosexuality is so much more wrong or sinful than anything else. Again, their go-to answer is that the Bible says it is wrong. The Bible says A LOT of things are wrong. For example: Romans 2:18-32--"But God shows his anger from heaven against ALL sinful, wicked people who push the truth away from themselves....So God let them go ahead and do whatever shameful things their hearts desired...Even the women turned against the natural way to have sex and instead indulged in sex with each other. And the men, instead of having normal sexual relationships with women, burned with lust for each other. Men did shameful things with other men and, as a result, suffered within themselves the penalty they so richly deserved.....When they refused to acknowledge God, he abandoned them to their evil minds and let them do things that should never be done. Their lives became full of every kind of wickedness, sin, greed, hate, envy, murder, fighting, deception, malicious behavior and gossip. They are backstabbers, haters of God, insolent, proud, and boastful. They are forever inventing new ways of sinning and are disobedient to their parents. They refuse to understand, break their promises and are heartless and unforgiving. " (For the sake of space, some of the passage has been omitted.) The point of this passage is that it is not just homosexuality that is wrong--so is every other sin listed, INCLUDING being UNFORGIVING. Think about that for a moment: God finds it just as abhorrent for someone to not forgive another as He does a man sleeping with another man. For all you "Christians" out there that love to judge, remember that before you paint another "All gays are going to hell" sign for your next protest.
And another passage:, 1 Corinthians 6:9-11--"Don't you know that those who do wrong with have no share in the Kingdom of God? Don't fool yourselves. Those who indulge in sexual sin....adulterers, male prostitutes, homosexuals....none of these will have a share in the kingdom of God....but now your sins have been washed away....You have been made right with God because of what the Lord Jesus Christ and the Spirit of our God have done for you." Yes, the Bible says homosexuality is a sin. It also says that adultery is a sin. So, if like me, you have had sex outside of marriage or if you have had sex with multiple partners, you are just as sinful as someone who is gay. And someone who is gay is just as forgiven as you.
To conclude this bit on Bible-quoting, here is one final set of quotes for consideration: " A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another." (John 13:34-35) and “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind, this is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”(Matthew 22:37-40). Christ says that as His followers, we have two rules to follow: that we love God and we love each other. By loving God, we are to follow His commandments and try to live in His image. By loving others, we are to forgive and not judge. If we claim to love another as Christ loves us, then we should be willing to die for another, even if that other person is indeed a homosexual. Such is the love He showed for us. For he who is blameless, let him cast the first stone. None of us are blameless, therefore none of us have the right to judge another's sin. Period.
You are allowed to believe that something is wrong. However, I would say you are not "allowed" to judge and condemn another unless you are willing to first judge and condemn yourself. So before you start throwing out Bible quotes, think first on the passage you are quoting and consider if it truly is one you wish to use. Jesus ate with the tax collectors. He allowed a whore to anoint his feet with expensive perfume. He loved and forgave all. Until you can do the same, watch your tongue. The whole point of being a Christian is to invite and encourage others into God's family--not push them away with a spewing of judgment and hate.
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