Making Me Time

I’ve been saying it since I was 22; I’m 29 now.  I have to get serious and lose the weight.  It hasn’t happened.  I’ve been steadily gaining.  It has to stop.  I must make it stop. I’m good at making excuses.  I don’t look as heavy as I am.  All my lab work says depsite my horrible BMI, I’m perfectly healthy.  I work too much.  I need to spend more time with my kids.  All of the above are true.  But it doesn’t change the fact that I’m 5 feet tall and weigh over 200 pounds.  That I still look pregnant.  That my pants are tight and uncomfortable.  That there is not enough Spanx in the world to take away my love handles and my mommy pouch. 

I start and stop.  I work out and eat healthy and then something sets me off and I binge.  Last night my husband took the boys somewhere to play and he wanted me to join.  I went home instead and popped in 30 Day Shred.  I felt guilty because I haven’t been home much; I’ve been working very long days.  I told my husband that I was sorry, but I have to carve out me time.  I have to do this.  Not just because I miss being a size 6, because my friends are skinny bitches who can eat whatever they want and have no mommy pouch.  I have to do this for my health, for my boys, for me. 

I never do anything for me.  Anyone that’s a mom can relate; we put ourselves last.  I have to make myself a priority.


This will likely be a series of posts because unfortunately, I’m not happy most days.  It’s mainly the reason I created this blog in the first place.

I’m no longer happy at work because I no longer feel valued.  My job is very important to me.  It’s something I do outside of being someone’s daughter, someone’s wife, someone’s mom and I’m good at it.  I make mistakes sometimes, but I feel that I make less mistakes at work than I do at home.  I’m not always confident that I’m a good wife or a good mom, but I know I’m good at my job.  I was completely new to my line of work given I had a psych degree, but my boss gave me a chance.  I was grateful then and I still am now, but I’m losing some of the drive I once had.  I have worked my butt off for three years to only be told again that I’m not getting promoted.  My boss/mentor is afraid I’ll leave because she hasn’t been able to get my promotion approved two years in a row.  So, she continually tells me how great I am, but that praise is no longer enough.  I deserved the promotion two years ago.  I definitely deserve it now.  I operate at that level, but I can’t get title and the pay. 

I have a lot of flexibility here.  I feel comfortable here.  So, it’s hard to want to leave.  I haven’t applied for any other jobs, but I think about it all the time.  I’ve been told I’ve be tagged as a high potential employee.  I’ve been told everyone is aware I’m a rentention risk.  If that’s the case why am I at the same desk with the same title and the same pay.  What kills me even more is if I choose to leave for another opportunity they would have to pay the new me more than what I make now. 

I’m conflicted; I really don’t know what to do.  I feel stuck and I hate that feeling.

No Baby

Three negative pregnancy tests and my period confirm there is no baby. 

I came down the stairs Saturday night and lookedat  my husband and said, “I’m not pregnant.”  He assumed I had taken yet another pregnancy test. I told him no;  I didn’t take another one, that my period started.  He asked if I was sure it was my period and not implantation bleeding.  Through my obvious disappointment I smiled a little, impressed at how much knowledge my husband had of pregnancy.  I asked if he was sad and he said, “A little, yeah.”  Me too.  I told him, “I know it was bad timing, but I really thought I was.  I was already attached.”  It’s crazy how quickly you can fall in love.

Maybe Baby

On my way home from work last I bought a pregnancy test and because I no have patience I took it as soon as I got home.  Since my mother-in-law is visiting I also sneaked the Target bag into the bathroom and turned on the faucet.  I’m a married woman, in my own house, yet I was behaving like a teenage girl who freaks out everytime she has sex and assumes she’s pregnant.  The difference being I’ve been pregnant, multiple times, so I know what it feels like to be pregnant.  I’ve felt nauseous and have started throwing up.  I had a massive headache last.  Oh, and hubby and I had sex numerous times while I was ovulating according to the trusty app on my phone. 

The test was negative although neither one of us is convinced.  Sure, I tested positive early with both my boys, but just because I did with them doesn’t mean it would be the same for every pregnancy.  And I took it at night – a no-no when taking a pregnancy test in general, especially when taking one early.  Anticipating this could happen I bought a box with two tests; I won’t use the second one yet.  I’ll go against my natural urges to want to know right now and wait a few more days.

My first two children were planned.  If I am pregnant, this baby would be an “oops baby.”  Actually, it would be a sooner than mommy and daddy planned baby.  We want to have another child, but we weren’t going to start trying until next year. 

This maybe baby has caused a little anxiety in my husband as right now we both need to take very necessary and long overdue steps to increase our income.  In addition, as of today we don’t have childcare.  Side note – we had a very promising interview last night and more tomorrow and Friday.  While I admit it’s not great timing on our part – I’m already hopeful that when I take the test again it will come back positive.  There are babies everywhere and it’s given me baby fever.


In a matter of a few days my predictable, although still somewhat chaotic (I have two little kids and a Mastiff in my little townhouse) life turned upside down.  My children have been with the same caregiver since my oldest was an infant and she is no longer able to watch my children. I am an utter mess over the recent turn of events.

I’ve been crying, no, sobbing for days after my kids have gone to bed.  I’m not a very trusting person; it’s worse when it comes to my children.  I can count on one hand the number of people who have been alone with my children.  Now, I have to find someone else to care for them.  And to make matters worse I’m on a deadline.  Thank goodness for my extremely understanding boss, who has given me a ton of flexibility to work this out. 

I have interviews galore this week.  I have made it very clear to all those that I have spoken with that this is not easy for me at all.  I have also warned them they will likely have some issues with Landon intitally as he is not happy about the change either.  I’m not sure how Noah will respond.  He doesn’t appear to have any separation anxiety, but he’s also never been alone with anyone outside my care provider and our family.

I typically handle stress by eating (there will be a blog or two or three on this later), but I have been good and instead of eating I’ve been working out.  My entire body is sore.

Here’s to hoping I find someone I like, my kids adjust fine, and life can go back to normal.


I know people always say you shouldn’t have regrets because every thing you’ve ever done makes you who you are today.  While it’s true that everything I have ever done or haven’t done as the case may be makes me who I am today, it doesn’t mean I don’t have regrets. 

I regret not breaking up with a boyfriend when he showed his true colors.  Instead I stuck around for 3 more years.  At the time I thought I loved him, that we were having fun, that relationships should be drama-filled.  Looking back I realize I stayed because of low self-esteem and shame for a mistake and decision I had made.

I regret not studying abroad in college.  This is possibly my biggest regret.  I had the opportunity to study abroad for FREE and I turned it down.  Because of a boy, the same boy I should have broken up with 3 years earlier.  He threatened if I went to Italy our relationship would be over, so I stayed stateside.  A few months later I finally wised up and ended things for good, but by then it was too late to go Italy.

I regret not going to grad school after graduation.  I was your classic overachiever.  I take that back – I wasn’t your stereotypical overachiever because while I studied hard and took on entirely too much I also partied hard.  I took on entirely too much – too many classes, too many volunteer activities, too many hours at my part-time job and I crashed.  I had a meltdown my junior year of college and wanted to drop-out of school.  I didn’t drop-out, but I decided not to apply for grad school.  In doing so I disappointed a lot of people – my parents, my profressors, myself.  I struggle with the fact I’m not where I thought I would be profressionaly at my age and it’s because I didn’t go to grad school. 

I don’t dwell on these regrets because constantly thinking of them would contribute to unhappiness and resentment.  I envy those who say they have lived their life with no regrets.  I wonder how they accomplished it.


Baby Steps

I need to make a lot of changes and the thought of all that needs to be done is overwhelming me.  To others I always appear to be in control, rarely flustered.  I put on a good show.  Inside I am a mess.  At home I’m a mess.  That’s the safe place to fall apart.  Thank goodness for my husband with the patience of a saint. 

I’m pretty good at priortizing.  It’s one of my strengths celebrated by my boss.  I’m much better at it at work than I am in my home/personal life.  So, one step at a time and those steps will be baby steps.  Otherwise, I doubt I am going to succeed.

First Post

I began writing in a diary when I was little.  My first diary had Maggie Simpson on the cover and had one of those fake gold locks on it.  I think I was about 8 or 9.  I wrote in diary after diary.  At one point I even wrote on looseleaf paper that I kept in a Trapper Keeper.  Then I began to write poems on the family computer and would lock my collection of poems.  I continued to write in a hard journal as well.  In high school I began to blog – LiveJournal, which I kept throughout college and for a year after my college graduation.  Then I stopped writing and I got rid of my old writing.  I threw out my journals and my poems.  I abandonded my LJ and purged another.  Reading what I had written in the past hurt me.  It made me sad.  Now I wish I still had the poems and the journals and blog entries. 

I stopped writing because I didn’t want it to be discovered.  I didn’t want anyone by chance be able to know my intermost thoughts and feelings.  And while this still worries me I feel compelled to write.  I need to have an outlet.  I need somewhere to share my feelings and thoughts without the fear of judgement.  So, here I am.