My mom always said Life is not a dress rehearsal. She said it so frequently and lived by it so fully we put it on her tombstone. Life is not a dress rehearsal.
I know some people make bucket lists, and some producers make movies called Bucket List but why do you have to wait until you are old and gray with death looming in front of you to make a “bucket list”? Why not just live your life fully? That’s what my mom did, to the point of me perceiving her as selfish at times, and that is what I intend to do.
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Filed under: Body, Current Situation, Other Moms | Tags: new baby, sister criticize, toddler discipline
My sister uses a girdle to shrink her uterus after delivering, per her ob’s advice. Within a week her stomach flattened to look a mere three three to four months pregnant. She doles this information out sparingly so that acquaintances think she is super mom with the super body. We went shopping a week after her son was born and the oohs and ahhs she received from the sales clerk about her body led me to chime in that I have a five month old, and my body is lean.
I was looking for some sort of validation. Staying at my sister’s house for two weeks with my two kids and her three children including the newborn was a lot, even though we are best friends and her house is significantly larger than any New York City apartment I’ve visited. I’ll give her the benefit of the doubt of her post partum mood swings, but she made comments about my kids. Comments that one such as myself might take offense to. Comments about my daughter and how she adjusted to being in a foreign place with constant stimulation. Every time she picked up a toy, one of the other kids would snatch it out of her hand and say Mine. She was not on her turf or even in her own country. My sister discounted this when she complained that my daughter whined too much.
I kept my mouth shut about her children and their misbehavior because I did not want to get into a tit for tat situation. There was nothing to gain. Kids are kids. They have good moments and bad ones.
She did share some helpful advice that perhaps I would have come to on my own. Given her kids are older she was more familiar with how best to handle a toddler. I do remember taking a trip when her eldest was a little over two years and my mom and I advised her how to discipline her toddler. I shared my thoughts in a constructive and sensitive way as opposed to attacking and criticizing.
I took full advantage of my sister’s help and changed an average of one diaper a day which was awesome. My sister felt the need to comment on that as well. She must forget that when I am in New York I can change multiple diapers in an hour and I have to run around looking for the proper size for each kid. That was my vacation, some R & R that I desperately needed and earned. She must have forgotten or never realized how hard I have been working and the amount of stress I am under.
So don’t judge me! Don’t judge my parenting! Since she is my sister and best friend and had just delivered a baby…I won’t digress and mention how she treated me in the delivery room, I’ll give her a grace period.
My father has asked me on multiple occasions whether or not I’ve started exercising again. “It hasn’t been six weeks yet!” I remind him. Then I mention the old wives tale that some women steer clear of stairs, a luxury that eludes me because I live in a duplex apartment with the bathrooms on the lower level. I’m not even supposed to pick up my toddler, but I do.
At the three week point during my first pregnancy, I was slowly becoming able to walk without leaning on to the stroller for support. this round, I am doing much better perhaps because the delivery was significantly easier and because I don’t have the luxury of indulging my desires as much as I did.
As my husband laments that I need to return to society and do things that make me feel good like exercising, I remind him that like sex, exercise is off limits for six weeks at a *minimum*. I will pat myself on the back for my body returning to a passable form. I’m in my old jeans – not the skinny ones but still. I can see the definition of my obliques from my abs and I’m excited for that to become more defined. Of course looking at my body feels so insignificant, especially when I find an inordinate amount of comfort in a sweet fresh baked cookie.
I may be rambling…but at least I’m posting.
I’ve heard that a pregnant woman’s hormones surge to 1,000 of times their normal level. I don’t know if that explains my clear skin (although one would think not, but I’m not complaining), but it hopefully accounts for my moody behavior.
I’ve been angering easily, excluded from this is me snapping at my mom after spending three days of vacation together and watching her morph into her mother about whom she often complains. When the dishwasher was not working well yesterday and my husband told me he had the same problem when I was away, I wondered why he did not call the toll free number inside the appliance to get an answer. Instead, he leaves the maintenance to me. Or rather, instead he ignores it and hopes/believes/imagines that it will magically be fixed. That he put our sharp fancy knives in the dishwasher after I’ve told him repeatedly not to, did not help.
I see crumbs in the kitchen and I am desperate to know if it was my husband or the caregiver who left them in the toaster. I freak out when I cannot find my jump drive that I know I put in a *safe place* before I went away. Perhaps because my husband is running the marathon this weekend and he needs some extra attention leaving a surplus of work for me, or because I am having this baby that I did not plan or because I don’t know how we are going to squeeze into our 1 bedroom + sleeping nook or because this baby is very active and I’ve been pregnant for over half a year, or because I leak pee every time I sneeze, or because even though my husband will babysit on a weekend night I have no friends to go out with, or because I am craving an imbibition, or perhaps realistically my mother did not receive the most stellar health report Friday from her doctor, but I’ve been very antagonistic and cranky lately. Sorry.
Filed under: Body | Tags: growing chest, pregnancy boobs, pregnancy breasts
My first pregnancy I watched my boobs grow faster than any Chia pet. the small perfect C cups that I had professionally constructed (for those first time readers, they were crafted from two droopy DDs) ballooned faster than my belly. Had they kept up that pace the entire pregnancy instead of the first three months, I surely would have tipped over. Friends even commented that they knew I was pregnant based on the globes attached to my chest.
Before I knew that I was pregnant and was fighting a fatigue, I checked my breasts. They were no bigger or more sensitive than usual and so I was convinced that everything was simply related to my period.
But the pee sticks proved me wrong and more symptoms manifested. But the boobs expanded slowly. I picked up the occasional D bra, the demis never fit for long. Until, at about 18 weeks they grew faster than a baseball player’s muscles on steroids. I am back in my 36DD bras holding in my massive sensitive heavy breasts.
I hope the growth spurt is older, until the milk pours in.
Filed under: Body | Tags: dumped for a friend, first kiss, first sexual experience, first time, swollen from sex
My first kiss at sleep away camp was sloppy and wet. I remember thinking during the kiss, *this is it! I’m doing it! This is french kissing!* That night as I tried to fall asleep on my top bunk i felt his juices dry on my face, and thought of them that morning as I washed my face. His saliva around my mouth was a memento, proof that I had kissed him. I thought about and relived that kiss countless times. That is, until he dumped me for a friend, the beginning of a trend that followed me for more years than I care to acknowledge.
My first sexual experience was not terribly difference. I thought *this is it! I’m doing it! This is sex!* It was equally sloppy and not as satisfying as that camp kiss. He too would go on to sleep with a friend the night of his senior graduation.
Not sure if this is a sign that I should pick better friends or boyfriends or both.
This past weekend my husband and I did it, twice. Saturday night, he acquiesced after oral persuading. Sunday I forwent my nap because we had the house to ourselves. Today, Tuesday, I am still sore and think about our activities when I go to the bathroom or change. I should be used to his size by now, but, and perhaps it’s related to the pregnancy, I have a physical souvenir.
Filed under: Body | Tags: dirty fingernails, fingers, flattering fingers, sexy fingers, sexy hands, unsexy fingers
I am not turned on by fingers and I think I made it clear that old lady hands have no place in any porn that I want to see. Poorly maintained fingers and cuticles are definitely turn offs.
I once dated a guy (okay several guys) who did not care for their nails. I remember staring at his hands with the dirt lodged under the fingernails and thinking that I was going to let those hands caress my bare body.
My husband however likes fingers. He likes me sucking mine, he likes sucking mine, he likes me sucking his after other juices are on them and I want to vomit. I acquiesce for a moment because I do not want to kill the mood entirely, but I am extremely turned off.
There are a few sexual activities that I can tolerate for the moment and then there are the fetishes that do not appeal me. I guess one man’s excitement is another woman’s repulsion. So I must be lucky if this is one of our big sexual incompatibilities and it does not pop up too often (kind of like sex).
People have commented that I have nice feet. Really? You can see the bones and the veins. My toes are nothing special, if anything a little chunky at the end. I was always jealous that my sister could stretch her toes apart and crack them, although I really just wanted to make that noise to annoy her they way she could vex me. I never thought feet could be sexy, but they can definitely be unsexy. I’ve seen growths on the side of the foot where the big toe meets the foot. Are they bunions? They are unsexy. I’m not sure if they are the result of girls wearing too high heels too often, but it makes me grateful to be a late blooming fashionista. I’ve seen calluses on top of the toe knuckles. Not sexy. I would say my feet are average looking, but I guess that is better than most.
When I was 22 and living in Venice, I received a call from a student at UCLA doing research. He proceeded to ask me about feet, foot fetishes, and so on. A recent graduate with some free time, I happily and honestly obliged. It took my friend to point out that this was a prank. I called the number the guy gave me as his own and it belonged to someone else.
My husband adores my feet. He has me wear high heels to bed and has bought me lots of uncomfortable shoes I would never pick out for myself. I love a great foot rub and any attention to my feet feels good, as long as I don’t have to reciprocate.
