A very merry unbirthday...

Today I am wishing myself a happy half birthday- it is officially 6 months until I turn 30! My best friend Stacey (whose birthday is two days before mine) and I celebrated this weekend with a perfectly appropriate half a pie!

Key lime! Yum!

I can't say the thought of 30 doesn't throw me off every once in a while. I was at the oh-so-fun girlie doctor recently who informed that when I turn 30 I'll only have to have Paps done once every 3 years. I momentarily thought to myself that that will be nice in a few years before she said, "so next year will be your last one for 3 years" and I nearly choked realizing that 30 isn't a few years away, it's only a few months!

I also had someone tell me about a candidate she was recommending to be hired in our office. She said, "oh, she's really young, like 29 or 30" and I briefly thought that wasn't all that young (yes, it IS young, I thoroughly believe that, but in the world of teaching it isn't as much). Then again it hit me, I'M 29, and it is VERY young!

Somewhere in my head I apparently have myself convinced that I'm 25 or 26.

In any case, in the moments that I begin to dread and fear this next decade, I quickly realize just how blessed I am to have each and every day that I do. I worked with a lady who told me how every year she is so happy on her birthday and she says, "Yes! Thank you God for another year! I am so happy to be 52!" (and illustrated with a cute little happy dance). It struck me as odd, then I thought, what an amazing perspective to have on life! Instead of counting down the days until you die, why not count up the days you've been blessed with?

And, though I hate to go here, to be completely honest I truly am blessed to have these days. When I was born the median life expectancy for someone with cystic fibrosis was somewhere in the teens. The current predicted age of survival is in the mid-30s, a number that may seem daunting, but to which I've paid very little attention (I had to look it up right now). To me, the numbers mean very little; they are not a death sentence nor a goal, just a sign of where research has brought us today, and a reminder of the amazing things that have happened in my lifetime.

So, instead of my phrasing on my Facebook, I am not on a downhill slope towards 30, I am on an uphill climb to bigger and better things. Thank you, God. I am so happy to be 29.5!

Wordless Wednesday: Bad Mommy

Re: My Son is Gay

A shocking title, I know (especially since I have a 4 month old baby!). It is actually the title of this this blog post that I came across while doing some random browsing (as I often do while sitting and doing my medicine). I really think you should read it. And no, it is not actually about the fact that her son is gay, just as this post is not about the fact that my son is gay.

I'm pretty sure this little boy rocked Daphne much better than I did on Halloween!

 

I'm about to get preachy, and I'm sorry, but the article got to me. Before I even begin I am not going to try to claim that I am free from gender stereotyping. I'm just as guilty as anyone. Yesterday's post is proof of that. But it does really bother me that little girls can wear blue, green, brown...any color of the rainbow (that is not intended to be a pun), but my boy can't wear pink, and hardly even purple. It bothers me that a girl can dress up as a football player or a transformer and we say "you go girl!" but a boy can't even put a dab of paint on a single nail without shocked expressions. It bothers me that we get all up in arms over "freedom" because a city tries to ban restaurants from giving toys away with unhealthy meals but yet we're stomping those very rights to freedom of speech and expression in our own children's lives.

Drew is wearing pink AND purple in this rainbowy tie dye onesie! (He is also looking VERY tiny!!)

But what bothers me more than anything is that these parents are the bullies that we keep screaming we need to rid our schools of. School bullying leading to children committing suicide has been all over the news recently. In fact one of the first stories came out of the very county I teach in. But what can we do to stop the problem when the problem isn't even the children themselves? It absolutely hurts my heart to imagine this little boy with his creative costume idea (dressing up as Scooby Doo characters with a friend? That sounds like a blast!) standing nervously at the doors of his school worrying what the kids will say, only to be greeted by what the moms have to say. I understand that the moms were "looking out" for the boy and worrying over how he would be teased, but in doing so they became the bullies themselves. I can only imagine that this boy will never even so much as touch anything pink, purple, or sparkly ever again.

I think as adults we need to be more careful about the stereotypes we perpetuate with something as simple as a look on our face and the fact that those simple actions tell our children that it's okay to judge. Like I said above, I cannot claim to be free from guilt at all. This article really brought to my attention the problem we've created though and as a parent and a teacher I am making a promise to myself to be more conscious of my actions. Drew will learn from what I do, not what I say, and while I'm not going to start dressing him in pink and bows, I won't blink an eye if he wants to play with a Barbie doll instead of a GI Joe.

The first step....

...to solving a problem is admitting you have one, right?

Well, I'm admitting it. I've finally come to the realization that my happiness is completely tied to food.  And not in the sense of, "food is the only thing that makes me happy," or, "when I'm depressed I shove my face with food." No, I mean if I'm grouchy or in any kind of bad mood it's almost 100% sure that I need to eat.

I've known I've had a problem for a long time, the problem was realizing the extent of it. See, if I'm grouchy or feeling down and depressed and I feel hungry, the solution is obvious to me. I've known for a long time that me + hungry = monster.

The problem is when I'm grouchy or feeling down and depressed and I don't feel hungry.

Let me illustrate: Yesterday I was trying to prepare a grocery list. At our house this actually involves quite a bit of time because I'm a coupon clipper. I peruse the grocery store flier for sales, then search my coupons for any spectacular deals (sales and coupons combined means only pennies for some items!), then I browse the internet (www.time2saveworkshops.com) for any other awesome coupon match ups, then I start making a list. Well, I was NOT feeling it yesterday. I couldn't even get myself to sit down to even concentrate on just clipping coupons from the Sunday paper. I stood up and told Jason, "I'm done with today. I don't care. I want today to be over with." (Because, you know, not being able to make a grocery list is the end of the world, right?).

So we decide to head to the grocery store with a very minimal list. I'm still feeling down and miserable. Then it dawns on me.... I haven't eaten lunch! It's 5:00 at this point, and I didn't eat lunch. I don't feel hungry at all, but I obviously am. I tell Jason I've forgotten to eat, so he, knowing just how much of a monster that can make me (and obviously sensing my already unstable state) quickly reroutes and takes me to the Taco Bell drive-thru.  After a quick snack of nachos and cheese and a delicious Limeade Sparkler I'm smiley, giggly, and practically prancing through the grocery store (I also got a big cupful of chili to sample when I walked in, so that helped too!).

My mom has been aware of this problem for a long time, but I've always snapped and snarled when she's told me I need food but I don't feel hungry (sorry!!!). There was always something about thinking she knew my body better than I did. "I am NOT hungry so WHY are you trying to feed me!?"

But it is a problem, and not just for Jason and my mom who have to deal with my moods, but for Drew too. Because when I'm hungry but don't feel hungry I get too easily frustrated by him. I get annoyed when he won't eat properly (remember me getting upset about him smiling instead of eating!?), or when he yanks my hair, or when he flails his legs and arches his back during diaper changes. All three of those things often make me laugh, or at least smile, but when the "hungry but not hungry" monster strikes, it is a completely different story.

So the solution? It's pretty simple, right? I need to eat all my meals, whether I feel hungry or not. This might take setting an alarm, or having something for lunch already picked out and set aside... I'm not sure yet. All I know is that it's silly to keep letting myself get to the point of feeling like "it's the end of the world" simply because I haven't eaten. Oh, and snacks! Keep snacks on hand, like in the diaper bag or my purse...

My CF doctors will be happy by this realization too as I am continuing to lose weight and falling farther and farther below my pre-pregnancy weight. While it makes me admittedly quite happy to fit into jeans I haven't been able to wear for years, it also brings the worry of having to quit breast feeding in order to keep on a proper amount of weight and not fall out of the "green zone."

So, I'm admitting this on my blog both as an apology to everyone who has had to deal with me (namely friends and family, but also poor strangers, like cashiers and well-meaning KFC workers) and as a way to hopefully make myself more aware of the issue and work on being better.

This is also a free pass to my mom (and any others who care to use it) to say "told you so" or even "I think I see some orange fur sprouting and some claws poking out... are you sure you don't need to eat something?"