TVT

Whoa I've Thought Vomit slacked off. Sorry for not keeping you guys satiated with plenty of random things that pop into my brain. Let's jump right in:

• I signed up for a photography class. That's right, now I will actually learn how to use this m-er f-er. Daytime outside photos are golden, it is those fucking low-light bitches or night-time outside shit that I can't figure out......could help to read my owner's manual, but ya know I like classroom settings better. After I signed up, it's a rec center gig, I was like 'wait a minute what is this location code? it is different from the rec center'. Turns out the class is at the Senior Center. Yeah buddy. I am going to find a polyester pant suit to wear, it is going to be epic!

• We're losing Pippa! Nooooooooooooo   ooooooooo   ooooo. I got a message today from Pippa to call her right away. Being at work with folks around and what not, I passed the responsibility off to Doodalood (I can't even tell you how it felt to feel the weight lifted off my shoulders when he said 'i'll call her'). Who is this partner person I am apparently married to? Weird. But so nice. Anyway, I only got second-hand-deets, but it sounds like something major happened with her dog. Like a $3,000 surgery major. And he will be in a sling and in and out of rehabilitation for the next 2 months. Anyway, sounds like it is a pretty hectic event for her and the idea of trying to care for Jack and her dog (he's a big german shepherd in case you need a visual....I like visuals) is too much. The good news is that she set us up with another lady. So we meet with her tomorrow evening. My fingers are crossed that this is just the best next step for Jack. The benefits of the move will be: more interaction with other kids....and that is about all I have thus far since I obviously haven't met her. I am sure she is wonderful. I am pretty sure Pippa told us about her when we first got together because she recommended we might want to switch to her eventually so Jack would have more of a curriculum and what not. Pippa admitted that her fault was that she couldn't say no to babies. When they got to the age where they need discipline, she can't do it. So I think this will be a good change. We'll figure it out.

• I want chocolate. Pretty much all the time. Now that I have actually started the getting into shape thing, I think my tastebuds/brain/whatever is trying to sabatoge me. Because all I ever think about is how much I want chocolate.....and ice cream.

• I have been wrestling with the idea of if I could ever go hunting. I feel like I can't. I tell Andy that I wouldn't be able to shoot anything, but then I try to think about it harder. Because technically I am a carnivore. I eat animals, so shouldn't I have the balls to go hunting. You know, give them a chance to get away instead of just being readily available for me to pick up at the grocery store. Why am I so quick to let someone else to do my dirty work? Well reason numero uno is obviously that it is literally dirty work. Ewwww....I don't know. Could you do it? Should I try it?

• Bret left me this message on Friday.....wait wait. back up. She e-mailed me to see if I could call her when I got off work. I did so. She didn't answer. So then she called me back and left a message. Whew.....it sure is a good thing you know exactly how that went down....doh...I am dumb. Anyway, she left me a message saying she would like some advice about a certain topic and that she would call me back after she got off work. Must be a long work day, because I still haven't heard from her. But to be honest....I am kind of at a loss for advice. So amazing blogisphere, maybe you all can help. She asked if I could recommend ways to help with her man's self-confidence. I know we have all dated/married/known of men who had confidence issues. Sooooo.....how did/do we deal with it?......besides wiener rubbing you dirty whores.....although now that I think about it...that does solve most problems. :)

• I have been highly susceptible to getting songs stuck in my head recently. And of course the issue is that they are songs that I don't know all the words too. So I get like one sentence stuck in my head.....frustrating....OH! but this made me think of a hilarious story. So Friday, I start my car after work and a very popular Marilyn Manson song is playing. In my head I am like Ooo I loved this song! And so I start singing along when the chorus hits....this is what came out of my mouth: We're all stars now....in the Boat Show!....yeah I shit you not. I literally said Boat Show. As soon as it came out I cracked up. Hard core. I dialed Andy to tell him what an idiot I am (and obviously to tell him I was on my way home) and I couldn't even talk I was laughing so hard trying to tell him what I did. Apparently this nerd (imagine me pointing at myself) is the star of the Boat Show.

Patience

There is a big part of my life that I don't really share with you....I used to be a man...just kidding that isn't it...or is it?....now you just don't know. Okay for cereal - here goes. I don't really talk about my husband. I don't really talk about it deeply with anyone. And it is strange....I tell you all way too much about my vagina, my butt, my nipples, why not my doodalood (A Ha! A new nickname is born!)? Why do I constantly feel the need to bottle that part of myself up?


Here's why. I am protecting him. Because let's face it, no one understands him better than I do. I can look at a situation between us with our entire history in mind. So if I tell you "OMG he just did this!" you would be like 'OMG your husband is a fucker!' And while yes, he can be a fucker sometimes, I know he is really a good man. I know the insides of him. But if I told you everything....it worries me you wouldn't see the insides, you wouldn't keep those insides in mind when you heard the bad shit.


But here's the thing right? This is my blog. My diary of sorts....my diary that talks back when you guys comment, which makes it like the best diary ever! It is great to get those reassurances, those 'I know how you feel', those 'I am going through this too', or even those 'I am not going through this, but I am sorry you are and I am here for you'.


There are many complexities that make the doodalood tick. Sure in some ways men are super simple. Rub their weiners and they do what you want, that sort of thing. But in other ways, they are complex. I wouldn't say mine is extra complex. The directions that came with him are just in some ancient Mesopotamiam language that no one speaks or reads.....notice an example of how my blog brings culture and knowledge to an otherwise boring day?


I have sort of figured out some of the directions to him just by trial and error. And luckily, my fellow ladies out there have similar "operational" issues with their husbands. So most of them can relate. I was venting one such recent "operational" issue to some ladies and E gave me a great response "if our husbands would just do what we tell them to, when we tell them to, and how we tell them to our lives would be so much easier!" 


True dat sista! True dat. 


So obviously boys are compli-ma-cated and sometimes we are quick to focus on their downfalls. I know I find myself stuck in that mindset sometimes. I don't think there is anything wrong with sharing your issues with this community of people and maybe eventually I will get to that point. Sometimes it would be nice to find some support when I feel frustrated and alone. So I will work on that.


Although sharing the negative is hard for me, I can go on all day about the positive. So I will. Today I had this text convo with the doodalood.




D: I love you a lot
Me: I love you a lot too! Thanks for telling me, makes me happy
D: I have never been happier than as a dad....and you made me do that
Me: Are you trying to make me cry? You're the best dad, I knew you would be. that is why I forced you.
D: Why would you cry?
Me: Girls are emotional you know that
D: Odd


Seems like my directions are also in a lost language. Long story short, yes, sometimes he pisses me off. But almost always he redeems himself and warms my heart. Go love on your doodalood's today ladies....and if you need a doodalood to love on, my brother is still available. And now this post just went from sentimental and cute to pimping out my sibling. That's how I roll.

We Have Muffin Top

Now usually a lady wouldn't be super excited to achieve a muffin top, but in this particular case, it is exciting. Saturday morning I was standing in my closet trying to figure out what to wear. I was kind of over the two pairs of jeans available to me and the pair I wanted to wear was in the wash. So I was standing there contemplating, then I looked over to my bottom right....to the bar where about a year and a half ago I retired many of my pantaloons. I thought to myself 'what the hell, let's see where we're at'. And I am proud to report: WE HAVE MUFFIN TOP!!!!

Don't worry, I didn't wear the pair of jeans I pulled off the hanger. But it was extremely exciting to get to the muffin top point. That means progress is being made. 3 months ago when I tried those same jeans on I couldn't quite get them buttoned. To me this means someday soon there will be no muffin top. I'll be rockin' those suckers with confidence!

In my opinion, this is probably the greatest way to start off the New Year.....well obviously the only better way would be sans muffin top, but you get where I am going. Celebrate the little things. This is going to be an awesome year! HAPPY 2012 BITCHES!

New Year - A Change of Rules

First off, I hope you all have an amazing New Year's Weekend! Woohoo 2012! I predict it will be babies for everyone in 2012. 

I have come to the conclusion that it is time....it is time to change the rules of this blog. I am sorry to do this to you all, but now that there are actually people out there who read my blog - Holla at my peeps! - I have started to feel a bit of unease. Unease at how completely easy it would be to piece together my life.

It's not you....I trust you. It is others. The non-commenters, the non-followers who stop by....they make me nervous. I HAVE GUNS! You should know that secret hidden people!

Anyway, long story short, the New Year marks the perfect time for this to happen. I am going to increase my anonymity. But I thought it was only fair to give you some warning.

I am going to spend the next few days taking down many of my posts (first step was to copy my blog in its entirety to save for myself). Don't worry chances are your favorites will remain. Probably the ones that will disappear are the ones no one cares to read anyway.

This also means that those who are near and dear to me (aka real life friends) now get to have the amazing super special honor of getting nicknames. Now give me some time. I can only come up with so many amazing nicknames at once. But I will find the perfect one that fits you....right Iron Ducts?

So Ladies....and I am pretty sure no Gentlemen. Things is about to change!

Happy New Year.

Chubby Girl's Guide to the Gym

I am obviously enjoying this whole Chubby Girl's Guide blogging, so here we go again. The Gym - a dreaded word in any chubby girl's vocabulary. We fear it, sometimes the fear is so great it makes us pee a little.

But it makes me laugh immensely to imagine what I look like at the gym. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of myself in the floor to ceiling mirrors and yes indeedy, I am hilarious looking. As you might imagine, the first rule of gym-going for this chubby girl is to avoid eye contact with the mirrors. Look at the floor, the tv, out the window, at other people, just try as best as you can to avoid yourself in the mirror. You'll feel better just thinking you weigh 120 and have abs.

After several successful weeks of running outside during my lunch break, I finally had to cave and take my exercise indoors. Maintaining the idea that the only way I will stick to exercising is to do it during work hours rather than taking away more time from my family, I looked into a gym about a 5 minute walk from the office. And I joined.

My biggest mistake was to join a gym run by a World's Strongest Man hopeful.....or was it a mistake? Sure standing in front of this giant meat head made me feel dumpy and like he was judging every inch of me, -

him: you just want the open gym membership?

me: yeah

him: you don't want any one-on-one personal training and coaching, or to join in on one of our boot camps?

me: no

him: (judgy look) okay

- but at the same time it is kind of a trip working out and hearing him talk. Obviously as his muscles have grown, his brain has shrunk. Some of the things that come out of his mouth, I just internally smile and think 'I may be chubby, but thank god I am not that dumb'. Score for brains right?

Not only do I go work out with Strongest Man judging me with his pea brain, but then there is also cute Tiny Ponytail Trainer. Seriously?....way to make me just want to slit my wrists. I had to remind myself that if I was at a gym for 8 hours a day I would probably look like her too...oh and yesterday when I was there, she totally racked herself in the vajayjay. I shit you not! She was on the lateral pull down machine, or at least about to start it. She was wearing her "I am super intense" bicycle gloves (apparently you need to wear this to look like you know what you're doing? I dunno) and she put on this strap or whatever that basically tied her to the pull down bar.....I don't know. She was singing along to the banging rap music playing overhead and another trainer was chatting her up. Then she went to sit down and was apparently too forward or something and banged her vajayjay into the leg-rest thingy. HAHAHAH, but ow at the same time.

As a fellow vagina owner I felt her pain. The other dude had to help unstrap her so she could run into the office and shed some tears. But as a chubby girl I smugly thought 'I would never be that hasty'. Score numero dos for the chubby girls!

The good news is, the gym is super small and nice. Sure SM and TPT are there, but besides that there is usually only 2 other people working out when I go, one of whom is my co-worker. It is way easier to work out with 4 fit people, one of which is totally dumb and one who doesn't take good care of her vagina, then it is to work out at a big gym with 40 semi-fit people.

As this New Year business gets closer, I think many of us are thinking the same thing 'I want to be in better shape next year'. As much as I try to love every inch of myself and tell myself I am perfect just the way I am, working out does make me feel better. It isn't even that my body is changing significantly, it is just that I feel good. When I feel good, I feel like I look good too.

If you learn anything from this post (doubtful) let it be this: Watch out for your vaginas people. Keep them safe!

Broken Hearts

Unfortunately this Christmas didn't go as planned for everyone I love. And my heart is breaking for E and H. I wish I could hold E tight and tell her everything that is meant to be will be. I wish I could go to the microwave and just push a button and pull out a baby made just for her. I just want to fix it....I am not even sure what it is, I just want to fix it. Give me the tools and a manual, I will figure out a way to fix it.....unfortunately there is no manual for fixing this one. So we will all just mourn with her.

Mom Guilt

Whoops, I scheduled this to go up on Friday, I guess that didn't happen. So pretend you are reading this last Friday.
Mom guilt is stupid. I hate it. As a logical being I know that I shouldn't give in to the stupid part of my brain that exacts revenge on me through "mom guilt". Jack bashes his head on the floor, Mom guilt rears its ugly head - it's because you put those damn socks on him!
Last Wednesday was Jack's 9 month appointment. The dude has been chillin' on the 50th percentile curve since birth. Sometimes 57%, sometimes 52% but right around average. Yesterday, um not so much and the mom guilt bit me in the ass....the brain ass....you know what I mean.

Logically Jack is doing great. He has and continues to hit all his developmental benchmarks. The arrival of teeth is slightly later than some of his peers, but still not unreasonably late. Teeth arrival can happen anywhere from stupid early to well after a year. So again, he seems to be about average and I count myself lucky that I haven't had to live with the fear for a long while now.

He weighed in at 18lbs 8oz and measured 27 1/2". This puts him under the 25th percentile......FUCK! Okay Logical Brain says 'this is no big deal'. Facts: he has been moving around like a crazy pants. The kid is crawling and getting into everything. He is on the move. So it is only natural that he wouldn't be able to get enough food to keep up with the activity; which is what the doctor said. The height thing....well I suppose it is the same case there. But the doctor made a big mistake.

He looked at the number for Jack's height and was like 'hmm this doesn't seem right...let's re-measure to be sure'. Sure enough the nurse was spot on. Now to his credit he said 'well it is okay that his growth tapers off just a little, I am sure it will pick back up'. But "Mom Guilt" was already in full swing.

As you can imagine I pretty much believe it is my fault. It's no shocker that I've been experiencing changes in my milk supply, so obviously Mom Guilt is like - you are starving him! You don't have enough milk for him!

All the way home and for the remainder of the evening I was flipping out. Now Logical Brain tells me that he is still getting plenty of milk. He is drinking off the frozen supply and so even though I am not pumping as much, he is getting enough. I know that I need to relax. I know that it is going to be okay. I know that it isn't my fault.....but it is a battle...an epic battle between Logic Brain and "Mom Guilt". And although Logic Brain wins the majority of the time, the battles are pretty hairy.

The good news is this: turns out Jack can actually start getting cow's milk at 10 months according to our doc. I had thought it was 12 months (I will probably look into this a little more, but link me if you have found some studies). He actually brought this up before the whole weight/height discussion and he was like 'go ahead and just give him whatever milk you guys drink. 2% or whatever, he doesn't need whole. If he does fine with it, you can keep him drinking that during the day and nurse him in the morning and at night or whatever you feel like doing'.

Obviously for me this was a huge relief. I no longer have to worry about squeaking through until 12 months with my supply or supplementing with formula. Now, hopefully, we can introduce some cow's milk to help out. Thanks Bessie! You're the best girl.

After the worrisome (in my head anyway) discovery of Jack's lightness and shortness (could just be his dad's gene's rearing their ugly head....great I am going to have a short child...hehehe...Don't tell Andy I just wrote that....I mean he is going to be "average" height) I turned to the doc and said 'with the height and weight thing in mind, should we not try him on whole milk instead?'. He fully agreed and again told me not to worry too much (easy for him to say).

So we have 19 more days (who's counting right?...um "Mom Guilt" is totally counting) until we can try out some cow's milk. Obviously until then, I am going to be stuffing him with milk and food as much as possible.

I am throwing the sleep training out the window for a bit. We've been working on getting him to sleep through the night and now I am going to go back to letting him nurse whenever and as much as he wants. I know some of you are probably saying "calm down Natalie!". But I think this is the most logical step to take. Mom Guilt definitely shouted at me - it's because you are trying to eliminate his night feedings!!!!! So Logical Brain is going to give her that one just to ease some of her mind. We've got 19 days until we can try out the cow's milk and until then I am going to do my best to sequester this Mom Guilt.