Last Week vs. This Week

Last week, when I stepped on the scale, I was disappointed but not surprised. I had gained about 2 pounds back. I knew that I had a bad week. I didn't count my points most of the week and by the weekend I had kind of resigned myself to not seeing results that week so I just ate what I wanted. I also had not worked out at all that week. I knew that I was not going to see the results that I wanted, but it didn't make it any less disappointing to see that number on the scale and to know that I had gained back weight that I had worked really hard to lose.

However, there is always a silver lining and the silver lining to my weight gain was that it renewed my motivation to keep on losing. I began this past week with new determination and I stepped back onto the treadmill and started running again as well as keeping good track of my points and making an earnest effort to make good snack and meal choices. I was very determined to get back those 2 pounds that I had gained.

This morning was my weekly weigh in and today I was overjoyed. Not only did I lose the 2 pounds that I gained last week, I lost an extra pound. That puts me below my initial weight loss goal. Today I set a new weight loss goal of 10.2 pounds. I have already lost a total of 11.8 pounds. If I lose the next 10.2 pounds in a reasonable amount of time, I will reach a secondary goal that I had set for myself to lose about 20 pounds by summer. Sure, I will still have a long way to go but for some reason I have a feeling I will stay motivated through the summer if I manage to lose the next 10.2 pounds before summer starts.

It's really easy for me to lose my motivation and talk myself out of doing what I need to do. If I have a bad day or make one bad choice, I start telling myself how pointless it is for me to keep trying. I start thinking of how nice it would be to just eat whatever I want and I even reason with myself that it isn't so bad being overweight. Then I eat more and start to feel more guilty. It's a vicious cycle. I had never realized before that I am a bit of an emotional eater. I guess I can thank Weight Watchers for helping me to learn that about myself.

The problem is that when the dust settles, I remember that my blood sugar has been high and that I am not an overweight person with good eating habits. I think it is very possible to be heavy and healthy. I know people who are plus size who have excellent eating habits. I truly believe that some people are just built bigger than others. That is not the case for me. I am overweight because I make poor dietary choices and lead an inactive lifestyle. If I eat right and stay active, I will lose weight because my body is made to be a lot more slender than it is right now. So after I eat my feelings away, I realize that I am not very healthy and that I am setting a really bad example for my kids.

I don't want to be a bad example for my children in any way, especially not when it comes to being healthy. I want my kids to be healthy and active and to enjoy their lives. It starts with me. I have to be healthy and active and enjoy my life with them and hope that they will follow suit. So when I have a bad week and I gain back 2 pounds, I need to be aware that my kids are watching and learning from my behavior. When I have a good week, they are seeing me as well and I hope that they are learning from that. I need to remember that as I change, I am leading by example.

Wish me luck as I enter into the coming week. My goal is to lose two more pounds and to work out three times. I think those are reasonable expectations to set for myself.

Lowering My Standards.

After having breastfed my older son for 26 months, when I became pregnant with my nine week old I talked a big game. I both knew immediately and still know now that I would breastfeed him until he weaned himself, no matter when that was. I entered into parenting him with the intent of breastfeeding for at least two years.

Over the past nine weeks it has become clear to me that I cannot think like that. I need to set shorter goals for myself when it comes to breastfeeding or I am going to get frustrated. If I think in terms of breastfeeding for two years, I start to think about the back pain and the leaking milk and the constant sweating and milk smell that comes from holding a hot little body and feeding him all the time. Those thoughts are intimidating when I think of them in terms of two years.

I have decided that I am going to think of them in shorter terms in order to help myself get through it. When I was breastfeeding the last time, I set an initial goal of six months and when I hit that goal I realized that it would be really awesome if I made it to one year. After a year I felt like that was too short and eighteen months was really a more suitable time to start thinking about weaning. When eighteen months rolled around, I noticed that I had friends who were still nursing their two year old. My inner competitive bitch was not to be outdone. I just knew that I had to make it to two years.

Those short, six month goals left an end in sight for me. I could imagine the day when
I would be able to leave my baby without having to rush back to nurse him. I could imagine a time when the smell of milk would not seep from my pores. I could envision a little bit of autonomy when I thought of nursing in terms of shorter goals. I liked that. It was bearable for me that way.

This time around, the things that are hard for me are somewhat different. I still don't like that I am constantly a sweaty, milky disaster, but I don't mind the thought of my baby being attached to me for two years. What is really getting to me is the back pain. Being hunched over my baby, nursing him is painful for me. I am only really comfortable when nursing if I do it laying on my side. The problem is that I can't lay down to feed him all the time, there are other things (and people) that I have to take care of.

Thinking about enduring this back pain for another 22 months was making me crazy. It made the thought of a nice, easy bottle of formula given by daddy sound like a brilliant idea. It would offer me some relief if I could supplement. It would give my back a much needed break every once in a while. It just sounds so good when I think of 22 more months of nursing. I don't want to do that, though. I don't want my baby to ever receive any formula. I want him to have only the best, and my milk is the best. I can't turn my back on my beliefs and give him formula even if it means some relief for my back. So I'll get through it the best way that I can. I'll think of it in the short term.

This means that as of today, I am a little bit more than one third of the way to my six month goal. Go Me!

Ignorance Should Not Be Blissful.

A couple of days ago I awoke to a very active Facebook feed. My mom friends had gone crazy and all of them were posting the same link. Apparently the AAP has changed its recommendation regarding car seats. The new recommendation can be found here. For many, including myself, this was a long awaited development. Personally, I have known for a very long time that rear facing is the safest position to ride in a vehicle. In fact, everybody would be safer rear facing but we all know that the driver could not rear face for practical reasons.

There is a ton of information available on the subject and any parent or caregiver wishing to research their options should be able to easily find what they need. A couple of really good articles and resources are as follows:

Here

Here

Here

The evidence in favor of leaving your children rear facing as long as possible is overwhelming. Yet, I was surprised to find a number of people on Facebook saying that this new recommendation by the AAP was "stupid" and saying that they wouldn't be putting it into practice unless it became a law. Many of them were utterly convinced that their child was too big to rear face past one year. Some people stated that their child's legs were too long and were crunched up, some stated that their kids outgrew their seats. There were some who were convinced that their kids would have been hurt worse if they had been rear facing during specific incidents.

I am generally a "to each their own" type of person. But I draw the line regarding the safety of my children and regarding the safety of yours as well. These people are WRONG. Let me slow that down. These excuses are W-R-O-N-G. They are excuses. First, and foremost, rear facing is a matter of simple physics. I am not scientifically minded and even I know that. All that a parent has to do is watch one or two videos on extended rear facing to actually see the difference between an accident with a child who is rear facing vs. an accident in which a child is facing forward.

Children are flexible, they will make their legs comfortable. They will find a way to drape their legs over the sides of the seat or they will put them up on the back of the seat. And if, by some small chance, there was an accident and the child's legs were broken the legs would surely be a smaller concern than the spine. I would certainly rather have a child in a leg cast than a child in a casket, due to a broken neck. My son is a long, skinny type of guy and he rear faced comfortably in his car seat until December 2010, when he was 3 months shy of his third birthday. He never complained because rear facing was all that he knew. His legs were fine because he made them so. There goes that argument.

The other argument is that rear facing is only safer in a front end collision and that the parent is concerned over what would happen in a rear end collision. This is a wonderful account of rear facing in a rear end collision. Here is some information on rear end collisions and rear facing car seats. Certainly, in these cases, rear facing is not making the odds worse for the child.

Finally, the fact of the matter is that unless a parent is referring to the bucket-seat style infant carrier that we use in the first months of a child's life then it is highly unlikely that a child under one year would outgrow a rear facing seat. Most infant carriers fit children until roughly 22 pounds (in my experience). But after that, you do not have to turn your child around. There are plenty of options available in all price ranges to keep a child rear facing beyond the 1 year and 20 pound minimum. Let me say that again, 1 and 20 is the MINIMUM. My long, skinny son also rear faced in a Cosco Scenera until he was over 2. The Scenera is found here and it is extremely budget friendly. In fact, my son only had to be turned in his Scenera because of his height. He is now three and has just barely crossed the weight threshold for that seat (and it is my understanding that the Scenera has a lower rear facing height in comparison with many of its competitors, so there are surely options for everyone).

In my opinion, it is ignorant to have these facts staring you in the face and to choose to remain ignorant. In fact, many of the arguments that I was seeing were based on convenience for the parents which is a whole new blog post in and of itself. Ignorance should not be blissful. To ignore facts about child safety, for whatever reason, does not make you a cool, edgy parent. It makes you a parent who is refusing to see truth at the expense of the well-being of your child. Ignorance should not be blissful and it certainly will not be blissful when a child gets an injury that could have been prevented by extended rear facing. I'm not suggesting that people run out and spend $300+ on car seats that keep their children facing rear until they are 18 years old. What I am suggesting is that we embrace the truth and we all leave our children rear facing until they outgrow the rear facing limits of their car seats.

For further reading, I suggest any interested parent or caregiver go to this site:

http://www.cpsafety.org/

It offers a plethora of information on car seat safety. I see at least two pictures of incorrectly used car seats on my Facebook feed every.single.day. This, to me, is unacceptable. It has to end. We need to keep our children safe. Keeping them facing rear is an easy way to start and it is one of the most crucial arenas in which we should be concerned about our children.

Goals and other things.

I just scored the winning goal. I hit my first weight loss goal today after 3 weeks of Weight Watchers. I'm really proud of myself because that means two things:

1) What I am doing is working and I am losing weight.
2) I am losing weight at a healthy pace that will enable me to keep it off.

I felt like a million bucks when I stepped off of the scale this morning. I still have a long way to go but if I keep losing at this pace, I will hit my goals in the amount of time I was hoping to.

I was really worried this wee that I would be tempted to over eat and I was concerned that my weight loss would halt because I didn't work out at all this week. I am not sure why, but I could never motivate myself to get on the treadmill. I would think about it and I had intentions of doing it many times but I talked myself out of it each time. This week I hope to do better. I need to run or otherwise work out at least three times.

I noticed this week that I was much more gloomy than I have been previously. Even though I managed to eat well, I still felt like "depressed Molly," much of the time. I think that exercise would have helped with that. Perhaps I would have been in less of a funk if I had gotten my endorphins pumping with a good run. I also ran out of my placenta pills last week, so I should have been even more mindful to exercise. I need to be doing everything that I can to stay ahead of my depression right now.

It's very important to me that I maintain my sanity. I remember what I was like two years ago and it was not pretty nor was it pleasant. I could barely get out of bed. I was failing as a wife and as a mother. Not to mention, I was failing myself as a person because I had let my depression get so bad that I couldn't even move. I had no fight left in me. I don't want to live like that ever again. I missed out on so many things with my family.

Depression ate me up and kept chewing. It never even bothered to spit me back out. As good as it feels to have seen that goal number on the scale this morning, I know in the back of my mind that right now I am extremely vulnerable to depression. I know that if I lay down, I could probably sleep all day. Sure, I would eat right at meal times but the other 23 1/2 hours each day I would be a lump in my bed. I've got to fight and the fight begins now.

On Natural Disasters.

We all know that last week there was a catastrophic earthquake in Japan. That earthquake led to a tsunami. Both events have led to a possible nuclear meltdown in Japan. I have a friend living in Japan who has been ordered to stay inside of her house in order to avoid the radiation. Watching the footage was horrifying for me. I sat here frozen in horror as I watched a wall of water taking over the streets of a Japanese town. I saw fires erupting and people fleeing. I watched from the other side of the world and I felt helpless. I would have done anything to help some of those people and to save some of those lives. Sadly, all I could do was to watch from the other side of the world.

Shortly after the disaster in Japan, the Facebook statuses started. Many of my friends seem to think that the end of the world is near. They believe that Jesus is coming back to Earth to take them up in the rapture. Earthquakes, they believe, are signs of the impending apocalypse. I am not here to crap on any one's beliefs. I don't do that. I hate when people do it to me, so I try my hardest not to do it to them. But I am here to say that natural disasters freak me out. They make me question the certainty of my existence and they make me doubt and mistrust the ground beneath my feet.

I hate the feeling that I have after a catastrophe strikes our planet. Whether it be a flood, an earthquake, or an act of terrorism, these catastrophes make me feel powerless and vulnerable. When I really start thinking about it, I realize that it's because I am powerless and vulnerable. I am a small person on a big planet. I have control over very little. It's terrifying. Perhaps that lack of control would feel better and less horrifying if I thought that Jesus was coming to take me to heaven. Maybe I could take comfort in the paradise that awaits me. It seems like if I was a devout Christian, all of this would be much easier to stomach. But I'm not.

I'm not a convinced, faithful follower of Christ. I'm at best a skeptic and possibly an atheist. I'm just unconvinced. I'm not ruling out that there may be a God and that he may be sending signs that he's going to bring an end to our puny, human existence. But I am also not ruling out the possibility that we have simply abused our planet too much and now it's changing. Either way, I am powerless. Either way, I don't want to think about it.

As a mother, I want my children to grow up. I want my kids to experience life and grow up and fall in love. I want them to go to college and read books. I would love it if they got the opportunity to live abroad and meet new people. I have hopes and dreams for my children that don't include not being able to save them as the ground crumbles beneath them and we all fall into a flaming abyss. But my fears and my desires don't change the fact that if it's going to happen, there is not much that I can do about it.

All I can do is keep doing what I am doing and hope for the best. I don't want to sit here and stress about the impending apocalypse. I know that some people might be excited about it because they believe that they get to go home to Jesus, but I'm not. Even if there is a Jesus and my kids get to go and be with him, I still think it sucks that they don't get to live out their lives. And more than anything, I am really sick of people on Facebook reminding me that my children's untimely demise is a possibility.

The number on the scale.

I officially started Weight Watcher's on Tuesday, but I signed up last Sunday night and I tracked my points on Monday. I made no effort to watch what I ate on Monday and I went out with a bang. As promised, I ate a donut and I even polished off a few Girl Scout cookies as a way to say goodbye to being able to stuff my face. I mostly tracked my points on Monday to get a feel for where I was "going wrong" with my food choices and to see whether a few of the things I ate daily, that I thought were fine, were really unhealthy. They were, just as I had suspected.

Starting on Tuesday and continuing through the rest of the week, I stayed well within the amount of points I was allotted daily. It wasn't easy and I had to make a very conscious effort to do so. It was difficult because I have such poor eating habits but the real challenge was on the weekend when The B-Man was home from work. His eating habits are absolutely terrible and he's a horrible influence on me. I used my daily points much more quickly when he was around and I had to use a lot of will power to shut down some of his ideas. He's got great taste in what tastes good, he just has no concept of what's healthy. He's a big boy and he can eat whatever he wants, but it takes a lot of effort on my part when what he wants sounds good to me too.

All week while I ate healthily and worked out, I kept wondering how much I weighed. I have made a choice not to expose my weight on my blog. I don't want to for several reasons, which I will not discuss here. However, my first weight loss goal is 11 pounds and I just knew that all of my hard work and diligence had to be paying off throughout the week. A couple of times I jumped on the scale and I was never disappointed. I am losing weight, so I know that what I am doing is working.

However, every time I got off the scale I had to remind myself of a few things. First, I should not expect to reach my first goal in the first week. I should just work to reaching my first goal without stopping and without getting discouraged. Second, Weight Watchers requires that I do weekly weigh ins for a reason. A person's weight fluctuates a little bit each day and therefore weekly weigh ins will give me a more accurate idea of my progress. Third, just because the scale is showing me what I want it to this time doesn't mean it will next time and it also doesn't mean that I should reward myself with a Twinkie.

The only times I weighed myself were in the first couple of days. I didn't weigh myself yesterday on purpose. Since I signed up for Weight Watchers on Sunday, today was my first weigh in. Even though I ate "normally" last Sunday and Monday, according to my tracking software I should have been on the program for a full week as of today. Sunday weigh ins are fine with me anyways because they will allow me to go into the week with an idea of a short goal and some perspective of how I can achieve it. I feel like if I weighed myself mid-week, I would overwhelm myself and possibly create some setbacks.

Today, the day of my first weigh in, I was pleasantly surprised. I have lost 5.8 pounds since the weight I entered in as my starting weight. I know that 5.8 pounds in a week is a lot to lose, but it's the kind of start that will inspire me to keep going. I don't expect to lose nearly six pounds per week from here on out. I would be happy if I lose 2-3 as long as I keep losing and am doing it in a healthy fashion.

I still have a long way to go, but I loved the number on the scale today. The number on the scale today made me look forward to seeing the number on the scale next week. The number on the scale today made it worth it to have ignored last night's craving for chocolate ice cream. I am really glad that I had an orange instead, now that I have seen my progress.

I am so proud of myself and the best part is that I earned that feeling. I earned that happiness and that pride in myself. I earned it by paying attention to what I ate. I earned it by planning meals and anticipating my next move. I earned it by getting on the treadmill and being active almost every day. It wasn't easy for me. There are a million things that I would have loved to eat this week that I didn't (in fact, I watched my husband eat several of them). I could have watched T.V. shows that I enjoy and napped when I instead chose to run on the treadmill. I worked hard for that 5.8 pound loss. I earned the right to be proud of the number on the scale today and I will be proud of the number on the scale next week, even if it isn't a 5.8 pound loss. I will be proud of that number because I will have earned it as well.

Evolution.

Yesterday was the five year anniversary of the day that The B-Man and I started seeing each other. We spent a very low-key evening at home. We ordered in and watched our shows together and just hung out. Around 7, when I was getting off of the treadmill, I started thinking about how much has changed in the five years since we started our relationship.

Five years ago we were drunk. We were young and we were doing exactly what the majority of people our age were doing. We were partying. The next year, we went to a really fancy dinner and stayed at a hotel for our anniversary. We were young and in love and we wanted to do something special. The year after that, I was pregnant and The B-Man was in Pensacola doing training for his job with the Navy. Last year, the Navy sent him to Key West and he missed our anniversary for that.

This year, we sat in our living room. We were surrounded by toys and the messes that come from having a young family. I ran on the treadmill, we ate dinner, we read bedtime stories and gave baths, and none of it was disappointing. Five years ago, we never thought that this was where we would be. We each thought that the other was attractive. We enjoyed one another's company. We had similar interests.

Now the same holds true. We still like to be together and we still find each other attractive. Now we have even more interests in common, which I think is normal once you have been with someone for a while. I also think that it's normal when you have a family with someone. Clearly we are both interested in our children.

Over the past five years, I have had my share of moments where I began to worry that things were changing too much. I have had fears that maybe we have veered too far from where we started. We used to go out dancing together almost every weekend. Now we are lucky if we get to go dancing a couple of times a year. Those changes scare me sometimes. I'm afraid that The B-Man will get bored and that he'll decide that this isn't the life he wants. Being surrounded by diapers isn't exactly glamorous and it's definitely not sexy.

Every time I have had these moments of fear or worry, I have mentioned it to him. I think that if we are going to make it another five years (and more), it's important that we discuss our fears and apprehensions about our relationship. He's always very good about reassuring me. The B-Man always tells me that he loves me. He loves our life. He likes being married to me and he likes where we have come. My husband loves being a dad. He's good at it and it brings out a good side of him. He tells me that he can't imagine his life without me and the family we have created. I always walk away from these discussions with a good feeling. I walk away feeling loved and appreciated beyond what I feel every day. I think that's amazing because he makes me feel loved every day no matter what.

When I think about it, I think that my doubts are normal and I think it's amazing that he is able to ease my mind so well. I love my husband very much and I can't imagine my life without him. We have a great time together and I would never hesitate to describe my life as "fun." I think it is normal that my fun has changed. I've grown up and so has he. We have evolved from the careless 19 and 22 year-olds who could party until noon the next day. We now enjoy doing things that make our family happy. We have fun watching T.V. together and talking about our shows. Our love hasn't diminished as it has evolved, if anything it has grown.

I've come to the conclusion that I should not be focused on where we are in life. I should only be focused on whether or not we are in the same phase at the same time. I think that as long as we are in the same place, we will enjoy each other and continue to thrive as a couple. I make a conscious decision, every single day, to wake up and love my husband. I wake up every day and remember how lucky I am to have him and how much he makes me laugh and after that I decide that I want to do the same for him.

I know that over the next five years, my relationship will continue to evolve and grow. I will continue to change and so will The B-Man. It is my hope and my plan that we will go through this evolution together. Maybe we will not always be in perfect sync, but I think that if we decide we want to be we can be in the same phase most of the time. I've realized that relationships are about evolution and making the commitment to spend the rest of your life evolving together.