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 Since I was pretty young, I have been obsessed. It's not a unique obsession; its nothing glamorous or trendy. My obsession is the same as many women - the number that pops up when I step on the scale. For some reason, no matter how I may be feeling, one look at that number can ruin my entire outlook for the rest of the day. All of a sudden my clothes feel tight, my belly looks pudgy, and I think about how everyone will be able to see the three pound difference I just saw on the scale. As if people size me up when I walk by looking for any extra inches I have packed on. Sometimes I forgo the scale because I fear what it may say. I image the worse, and it manages to plague me all day until I break down and weigh when I get home. You know as well as I do, weighing after you have eaten all day is probably not the best idea. So, after I weigh, I try to take into consideration that I have eaten, had water, whatever I can think of to subtract pounds from what I just saw. Just typing it out makes me realize, even more than I already have, how silly the whole process is.
In actuality, that damned scale should be banned from my house. It is like a magnet that I am uncontrollably attracted to. I stand on it and pray that it will be kind. When it is, it's a good day. How have I come to allow it to rule my life? There are so many factors in this. For starters, my mother is as obsessed with it as I am, so you could say I learned from the best. But, to be realistic, there is a lot more to it than that. Let's start with the obvious "I was chubby as a kid" excuse. I wasn't fat, just thick. I had solid legs, chubby cheeks, and at that time I was somewhat tall. I didn't start to feel chubby until about 5th grade. A friend of mine had lost weight during the summer between fifth grade and sixth grade. She told me that a girl that lived by her said I looked like I had gained the weight she lost. Seriously? I was crushed , but brushed it off as if it didn't really bother me. I remember that feeling; my heart started beating fast ,and I felt the tears that wanted to come, fighting to stay back. I never liked to give anyone the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Another incident was with another friend. We will call her twin number one. She spent the night at my house, and in the morning I offered to make breakfast. At that time I was pretty good at scrambled eggs with cheese (still am). I made four eggs because I didn't know how much she wanted. Later when we had a falling out (about two weeks later) a friend let me know that she had said I made way too much food, I must think she eats as much as me. For real? This was said before we even had it out, while she was still supposedly my friend. Visual: Self esteem + chisel and hammer = one sad girl. At this point, I knew that no matter what, I would be the fat friend. You think that is all - nope, I am just pointing out the most ridiculous of the experiences I had with cruel people. The mother of one of my friends, after learning that I had made the school cheer squad, informed my mom that I would never make it on the main land because I was too heavy. AN ADULT people, an adult said this.
These early experiences followed me through school. Even in high school when I was no where near fat, I still considered myself the "fat friend". I wore clothes that covered as much as possible, only venturing to where something tighter every once in a while. It was a comfort thing. If it was covered no one could really tell what size I was. For me to wear a skirt or dress on a normal day was almost unheard of. Thinking back, I should have gone ahead and worn the bikini back then!
At this point in my life, when I walk in the bathroom and see my daughter standing on the scale, it makes me realize I have to get over this longing to make the scale say what I want it to say. I mean really, it is about 6 pounds that plague me. In the scheme of things, that is not all that much. I do not want my beautiful daughter to have any issues with her weight or define herself by what the scale says. I am going to try to change this for the better. It will be hard, but I think as a responsible parent, it is time I just let it go. (not my weight, the obsession.)
It has been over half a year since I last blogged about the house of Cheatham. A lot has happened, but goodness knows I couldn't begin to recollect all of the details. In a nutshell - Krista is more of a drama queen than ever, Chris is a daredevil that managed to pull a TV down on himself and broke his femur, and Alex still has not lost the alien tooth (I think it is cemented in place). Donnie has decided a full beard works better than a goatee, and me, well not much has changed there.
I figure I need to do a better job of blogging, but my brain is so jumbled with info, I need to categorize, maybe have multiple blogs to better organize what I want to say. So here it is. I will start a blog just for Krista. It isn't that I love her more - she just provides more blog-able materials. I am blown away by some of the things that she says and does. For this reason she needs her own space. Maybe one day I will write a book filled with her antics. Next, I will keep this one strictly for family purposes. Anything whole family related will go here. Our trips, holidays, birthdays, etc. Finally, I am going to do one to follow the kids journey into the modeling industry. I do not know how well they will do, but we will have fun finding out!
I am trying to rededicate myself to doing this, so we will see how it goes.
My baby girl turned four February 12, 2011. I cannot believe how fast time is flying with these children. It seems like only yesterday we were bringing her home, and now she is almost old enough for school!
Any who, she chose to celebrate at the bowling alley, AGAIN! Last year's party was interesting, so I knew that this year would probably be doubly so - and I was not disappointed. There were twice the amount of kids there this year, so it was CRAZY. They all had so much fun though, so it was all worth it. The best thing is that she loved it, and that was all that mattered.
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| Don't let the sweet look fool you. Game on! |
She may look serious, but that is just her game face. She takes this bowling thing seriously.
Baby girl and Grandmom.
This balloon was probably one of the highlights of the party for her. I will never understand why balloons are such a popular thing with children. It lasted about three days at home.
Food. Enough said. The smile explains it all.
I remember as a kid I was never very good at approaching people that I did not know. For me it was easier to hang back and observe before diving into anything too quickly. I am not sure if shy is the right word, more like guarded. The closer you get to people, the harder you fall when someone has to move, or something goes wrong in the friendship. Being a military brat taught me that as strong as a friendships are, they can go away with a little distance and time. Any who, thinking about this leads me to ask the question - what really makes a friendship? When can you call someone a friend instead of just an acquaintance? It is like the first few months of a relationship when you a re not sure when it is okay to introduce someone as girl/boyfriend.
Anyway, as an adult, I have a few people that I think I would consider friends, a slue of aquaintances, and then those that are not either or - they just . . .are. The thing is at one time or another they had a label, but through distance, time, fallout, or other, I am not quite sure where to classify them. There are also those that seem like friends, sometimes, acquaintances at others, and nonexistent from time to time. You know those people who think that it is impossible to be friends with more than one group at one time. Or, my favorite, the friend of convenience. Love that one. The problem with it is that unless it is explicitly said, you never really know where stand with anyone.
Then of course, the new trend nowadays is for everyone to be classified as a favorite or bestie. The term best friend has lost some of its power in some cases. It used to be that person you could trust, you loved to be around, and who you could truly be yourself around. Now it seems like, for some people, it is whoever happens to be available for that weekend. Best believe if I refer to someone as my best friend, I truly means that I think of you as family. Words need to maintain their meaning, or the lines get all muddled. I have found in the past that when I finally get close to someone, I will fight to keep that friendship. I will go out of my way to keep things on good terms. Unfortunately, that favor is not always returned.
I just hope for my children, friendship truly means something. The older they get the more I worry. Will they have those close friends that they'll know really have their backs through thick and thin, or will they have that group of friends that are there just when it is convenient. I want them to foster relationships that mean something, even if it means only having a few good friends, several acquaintances, and maybe a few "others". Most of all, I hope they can be each others best friends.
There are a few times in your life when you feel like doing something out of character. Last weekend was one of those times. I decided, along with a friend, to get my nose pierced. I had a few stipulations of course. First, it had to be as small as possible without being invisible. Second, the place that performed the procedure had to be clean - as in doctor's office clean. Once both stipulations were met (thanks Cat) it was go time.
Donnie really thought I would chicken out, which made me want to do it even more. He came with me, along with a friend and her husband. She went first. I could have easily backed out after watching her eyes tear up, and seeing the blood that he pulled out on the qtip, but I figured I had already committed, so it was a done deal. I will not lie and say it didn't hurt at all, but I have recovered from three c-sections. This pain came nowhere close to that. The guy was very professional, and I have to say I love it.
Now, the reaction to it has been different from person to person. My coworker and great friend Cat was THRILLED that I was doing it. She couldn't wait to see it :-). Most of the people at work had positive comments, or just none at all. Then there was my mom. She professed that is was unprofessional and she did not like it. I took offense, but got over it quickly. We came to an understanding, and though she still doesn't like it, she is not going to judge lol. My dad laughed at me. I can accept that. As far as my uncle was concerned, it was hot; my mother in law shared his sentiment. All in all it has been well received.
There is no telling how long I will have it, but for now I am loving it (as long as my children stop trying to rip it out of my nose) Gotta love them.
 Is it true that nothing solves your problems like a mother's hug, or kiss, or kind word? If life experience has taught me correctly, the answer would undeniably be YES. My children love their father, don't get me wrong, but it seems like when push comes to shove, I am the one with three little ones in my personal bubble. I am not saying that I don't like my children to be in my personal bubble, but I would like for them to invade HIS personal bubble occasionally.
The best example of this would be the children's preference of waking me up even though their daddy is sleeping closest to the door. And when I say closest, I mean he is the first thing that you see when you walk into our bedroom, so it is not like they don't see him. They make the conscience effort to walk around the bed and come to me. Several nights I have woken up with three sets of eyes staring at me. I feel their eyes on me before I ever open mine. I try to ignore it, but that is not possible. Chris will start patting me on my cheek and saying, "I hongry mommy, wake up!" Not once, not twice, but as much as it takes to get me to get up or give them permission to raid he cabinets. Then comes the chants for Wow Wow Wubbzy, Princess and the Frog, or Trek (Krista language for Shrek). By the time we go through all of this with all three, I might as well get up and grab a cup of coffee.
The bed is not the only place they are guilty of this favoritism. On those lucky days when they decide they want a nap, my lap has to accommodate three of them at one time. Many a days I have been stuck under three children, and had to call for help because the feeling was leaving my legs. My favorite time was when Chris was on my chest, Alex was on my lap, and Krista was on my head. Seriously. I wish I had a picture but alas, one arm was pinned under Alex and my phone was on the opposite side of the free arm.
In the end I guess if they did not hover over me and use me as their personal jungle gym, my feelings would be hurt. They make me laugh everyday, and although three was never in the cards, I couldn't imagine life without every single one of them.
 Christmas was great this year. It was nice to have my bro and sis in law here again since last year they were on a cruise to Mexico for the holiday. We did the normal stay at mom and dad's the whole week tradition which the kids really love. They get to see everybody from sun up to sun down and they enjoy every minute. Santa was pretty good to everyone. Alex is Ironman (seriously thinks he is) and has all the accessories necessary to save the world as Tony Starks. Krista is my little princess. She has her favorite princess doll and baby doll (Tiana of course) and a box full of fairy princess clothes to dress up in. I do have to say if there is a character that she most is like in that movie it would be Charlotte. I think Krista would kiss a frog if she could marry a prince and be a princess. Chris wanted a happy meal and a Spiderman for Christmas. Unfortunately they were all sold out of happy meals, but we did manage to find a few Spidermen for him. Typical of a two year old though, he played with everyone else's toys most of the time. Overall there was good food, quality time with friends and family, and great memories. My only complaint is that it was over way too soon.
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