Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
“I’m not a size 0 or 2. I’m not 6-feet-tall like a lot of the models that come around, and I’m like, ‘Wow, I’m really short compared to models!’,” the "American Idol" host, 42, said in an interview in the new digital edition of Vogue magazine. “I’m just a regular woman. I wear a size 6. You know, when I eat a little too much over the holidays, maybe a size 8. When I’m in shape, maybe a size 4.”
Oh yeah. Right. My point.
Look, I do appreciate that there are celebrities like JLo who do look slightly more like "regular" women than those skeletal size 0 models. But... and this is a big but (not to be confused with a big butt... ha ha) can these celebrities please be just a teeny bit more realistic about how different their lives are from just about everyone else's? You know, admit that you have a cadre of assistants who help you, and you are aware that pretty much every other mother in the world can't afford that. And that maybe, just maybe, you realize that your life is pretty damn good, and you are grateful for it.
Because otherwise, I'm just not going to have any sympathy that JLo is "really short compared to models" at her curvy size 6.
Friday, March 9, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
- Tomorrow night I am going to meet with some moms from T’s preschool, who have started an informal book club.
- Next Friday I am going to play BUNCO with some moms I have known for several years and some moms I have yet to meet.
- And just today I was asked if I would be interested in joining a group of moms from J’s elementary school to get together to play cards and drink wine.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
- I skipped kindergarten, so I was a full year younger (not just chronologically, but emotionally) than my classmates
- Despite my young age, I excelled in school and was selected to participate in a program for gifted and talented students
- Because of my young age, I was very insecure and really wanted to fit in (a deadly combination that bullies can sniff out in a heartbeat)
- I was (and still am) naïve, and give people the benefit of the doubt, and often trust those I shouldn’t
Note: I started this piece last week and was too deep in processing mode to finish. If it's okay with you, I'm ready to finish.
Well, it's been a mentally taxing week. Between Hubster working nonstop and me processing all of the above, I'm pretty drained. But some good things happened:
- I did some more thinking, and some more writing. And with help from my dear friend and kick-ass editor, I am pretty certain that I have found a compelling direction for my writing.
- I talked to my Jedi Master-level WWF friend. I explained how I felt, and she was incredibly supportive (she's like that in general; she's awesome, just like my other dear friend). She said she wouldn't be offended if I wanted to stop playing.
- I kept playing WWF. I'm still getting beated, quite soundly, but it doesn't hurt quite so much. Because I am learning more about how to play the game. Who better to learn from than a Jedi Master, right?
Thursday, January 12, 2012
It shouldn't be a surprise that I had PPD. I saw several therapists during my twenties and thirties for generalized anxiety disorder, and (brace yourself, because this is a really shocking revelation) I have a tendency to overreact and be somewhat of a drama queen. Plus, my grandfather was treated for agoraphobia and depression during the final years of his life, so I had genetics going for me, too.
- I was embarrassed that I wasn’t “strong enough” to handle this on my own.
- I was embarrassed by the stigma of taking an anti-depressant.
- I didn’t know of any mom friends who admitted to having PPD, much less taking anti-depressants.
- I felt like a failure as a mother because I couldn’t “snap out of” my moodiness.
- I worried what my friends would think if they knew I was taking medication to treat depression.
- I worried that my husband would think that my taking anti-depressants was an excuse not to “handle my problems” on my own.
And then (with help from a beloved and trusted neighbor) I realized something:
- If I had insulin-dependent diabetes, I would take the medication.
- If I had high blood pressure, I would take the medication.
- If I had asthma, I would take the medication.
I think you see where I’m going here.
I finally filled the scrip and went on sertraline. And do you know what the ultimate, twisted irony of it was? Only 25mg of the stuff - the smallest dose you can take - made me so horrifically nauseous that I went out and bought a pregnancy test to make sure that the nausea was caused by the meds and not a pregnancy. On the upside, it did its intended job and took the “edge” off my moods – I didn’t have such a hair-trigger temper anymore. But feeling queasy 24/7 while nursing a newborn and minding a toddler was simply unacceptable. I ended up quitting it cold turkey.
But once I weaned S, I discovered something that kinda rocked my world: after six years of trying to get pregnant, being pregnant, or breastfeeding, my hormones (and therefore, my moods) began to stabilize. Oh sure, I still get bitchy the day after I ovulate and then again the week before my period, but this is nothing like before.
I also discovered that regular exercise keeps my mood elevated, especially when said exercise occurs while my kids are in the safe, loving environment of Child Watch at the local YMCA. (Why did I not join the Y sooner?)
Like everything in life, learning to deal with my moods – with my depression and my generalized anxiety disorder – is a journey, a process. Those were six long and frustrating years, it was a real struggle, and I questioned everything about my abilities as a wife and mother. I still struggle, and I still question my abilities, but nowhere near as often or as harshly as I did during that time.
Life will not stop throwing me curveballs. I will likely still get down on myself. I still need to change how I handle certain situations. However, I am no longer ashamed that I have a tendency towards depression, or that I needed anti-depressants to help me through a tough stretch.
need to help and support each another, especially during the difficult times. God knows there are a lot of them.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
*Cat-Butt Face – you know, that look someone makes upon hearing something unpleasant; it looks like s/he just sucked on a lemon