Tonight I actually went shopping on my own. Mama and Daddy kept the kids, and I was excited to spend some time trying on clothes without kids underfoot. My plan was to get a few things to wear when I go back to work, and I found myself becoming depressed as I tried on clothes. I used to love shopping, but now I find it frustrating because I have put on a few pounds. I had gained weight before having children, and I have had a hard time losing it. I accept that I cannot wear the things I used to, and I also still have a little bit of a belly. I am also well aware that I need to watch my eating and work out more. I know all of these things. Unfortunately, while I was shopping and feeling depressed already, not one but two Belk employees asked me when my baby was due. I politely replied, "She is already three months old." Both appeared embarrassed and tried to change the subject. I simply continued shopping, but it took some of the excitement out of having some quiet time all alone. I was just the fat blob that still looked pregnant. Here is what I wish I had said instead:
Thank you for asking, but I had my baby three months ago. In the future, I would advise you not to ask people when they are due unless you in fact know they are pregnant. It is just rude. I am not pregnant. I have a three month old baby and a four year old son at home. I barely get any sleep, and I just don't have the energy to put together diet meals. I eat what I can find in the house. I nurse my daughter every three hours, and while people swear that nursing just melts off the baby weight, that has not been the case with me. I am constantly hungry. I have been trying to work out, but my back hurts since I have had the baby. I'm doing the best I can, and you asking me when my baby is due does not help. I am trying to find some clothes that make me feel good about myself while I continue to struggle to lose the weight I know I need to lose. I haven't left the house without a kid in days, and I was having a perfectly lovely time until you reminded me just how much weight I still have to lose. Did they not tell you in your training that telling people they look pregnant might make them not want to buy clothes. It is just rude. Grrrrr.....
And, yes, I would have growled at the end for effect. I know they didn't mean anything by it, and I am sure they were embarrassed. But is it seriously too much to ask that people think before speaking. I know I am sometimes guilty of this as well, and I hope I will remember this in the future. I do have every hope that eventually I will get on a schedule and eat a little healthier and exercise more. I need to do this for my family, but until I reach that goal please don't ask me if I am pregnant. I might growl.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
February 28, 2012: Something New
I often tell my students, “When I grow up, I’m going to be a writer.” Unfortunately, I just don’t seem to have time to do the writing one must do in order to be a writer. In my head, there are ideas for three different novels and about a dozen short stories, and there they sit. I simply don’t see sitting down to craft a well-written novel amidst the chaos that is raising children and working full time. My family and my students are my life right now, and I just don’t see how I can manage to fit in a novel. I am sure that someone might be reading this and thinking, “You can do it! Women do it all the time.” I thank you in advance for the encouragement, and I know there are many female authors who manage to develop an engaging plot into a novel and have it published all while raising three children, tending a garden, and keeping the house clean.
Unfortunately, I am not that person. I have decided to table the idea of becoming a novelist for a few years (or eighteen) and take a stab at blogging in order to keep my writing skills sharp.
I have toyed with the idea of starting a blog for most of my maternity leave, and I even made it a New Year’s Resolution. I kept saying today is the day, but I didn’t have a “hook.” Why was I going to blog? Did I need a theme for this blog? Does anyone even care? I decided that if the purpose of the blog was for me to write that I simply must write. I must write every single day. I must write when I am grumpy or happy or sneezy or dopey or sleepy or bashful (and, yes, I know I forgot Doc). As I started to explain this idea to my husband, who is used to my wacky ideas, I told him, “You know how in the book, Julie and Julia, she spends a year cooking her way through Julia Child’s cookbook. Well, I am going to write every day for a year.” He had not read the book ,and he looked at me for a minute and said, “You mean you are going to tell the whole world when we go out of town.” I love that he always thinks about the “details.” I promised that I would not give away my location until after we returned home. We had this conversation two weeks ago, and I am sure he thinks he is never going to see this blog. Surprise, baby, I started!
I have no idea what I am going to write. This will probably be a mix of anecdotes about my life as a wife, a mother, a daughter, and a teacher. I might talk about how I hate laundry and learned not to wash my red robe with anything else since I am currently covered in red lint from toweling off after my shower. I might share a recipe or complain about grading papers. Who knows? I might even throw in some fiction or poetry. This is simply an exercise in one thing for me: writing.
It is possible this experiment will go awry, but for now I am going to give it a try. This is me. This is a year in my life.
Unfortunately, I am not that person. I have decided to table the idea of becoming a novelist for a few years (or eighteen) and take a stab at blogging in order to keep my writing skills sharp.
I have toyed with the idea of starting a blog for most of my maternity leave, and I even made it a New Year’s Resolution. I kept saying today is the day, but I didn’t have a “hook.” Why was I going to blog? Did I need a theme for this blog? Does anyone even care? I decided that if the purpose of the blog was for me to write that I simply must write. I must write every single day. I must write when I am grumpy or happy or sneezy or dopey or sleepy or bashful (and, yes, I know I forgot Doc). As I started to explain this idea to my husband, who is used to my wacky ideas, I told him, “You know how in the book, Julie and Julia, she spends a year cooking her way through Julia Child’s cookbook. Well, I am going to write every day for a year.” He had not read the book ,and he looked at me for a minute and said, “You mean you are going to tell the whole world when we go out of town.” I love that he always thinks about the “details.” I promised that I would not give away my location until after we returned home. We had this conversation two weeks ago, and I am sure he thinks he is never going to see this blog. Surprise, baby, I started!
I have no idea what I am going to write. This will probably be a mix of anecdotes about my life as a wife, a mother, a daughter, and a teacher. I might talk about how I hate laundry and learned not to wash my red robe with anything else since I am currently covered in red lint from toweling off after my shower. I might share a recipe or complain about grading papers. Who knows? I might even throw in some fiction or poetry. This is simply an exercise in one thing for me: writing.
It is possible this experiment will go awry, but for now I am going to give it a try. This is me. This is a year in my life.
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