Baby Weight

First of all, I would like to say that I know I am not fat. I am pregnant. There is a difference. To call myself fat would be insulting to myself and to others who might indeed be a little fat. Not that there is anything wrong with that.

But I think I am fat.

Not really, but kinda. Ever since college, I have been concerned with my weight. Maybe it was because I had roommates with eating/exercise disorders. They would yack all day about squats and carb-free tortillas. They would pull at the skin at their waist and say “Oh my gosh! I need to loose weight! I am so fat!”

What fat? They were shriveled and shrunken. They would NOT be a good source of energy if their airplane crashed in the mountains in the middle of winter and the only food option was cannibalism (though they would be a good low-carb option).

These girls were ridiculous, I know, but slowly, their self-deprecating words took a toll on my psyche. If they were fat, then what was I? I had a normal body, but had never, till then, thought that my body wasn’t acceptable.

No, I did not go to any extremes to loose weight. I am not interesting enough to develop an eating disorder. But I have become extremely conscious of my body.

When I got pregnant for the second time, my main concern was that I’d never be able to get my body back to a fighting weight. Truth is, I still fret about that. The weight loss journey seems like an uphill battle this time. With more baby weight to lose and two children needing my undivided attention, how on earth will I have time to exercise? How do most mommies do it?

I guess it’s not really about the weight. It’s more about the way I feel about myself. I want to feel sexy and pretty again (and I will never again stoop to a dramatic haircut to attain that feeling). I want to look like I belong next to my toned and ridiculously handsome husband. I want to be a “hot mama.” Logically, I know that sexy, pretty and thin are not synonymous. Obviously, logic isn’t always my driving force, though.

My Husband is a Good Sport

Two

Doug has made the realization. He now knows that he and Mommy are not just one being, united in mind, soul and purpose. No, he is capable of his own desires, actions, and conspiracies. Woe.

No longer the round-faced angel baby I once knew, Doug is now one of those children. You know, the one’s who scream “NOOOOOOO!” at the top of their lungs for 45 minutes at the grocery store... The one’s who know exactly the right pitch and decibel level to vocally kill all birds flying within a two mile radius... The one’s who run full speed into busy traffic because it is funny to see an extremely pregnant mommy sprinting after them like a spooked hippopotamus.

And Doug can cause some serious damage. After several of our important household items disappeared, Ryan and I began a search and rescue operation. After hours of no success, Ryan had a last minute inspiration. He picked up our stereo speaker and gave it a little shake.

“Clinkedy, cloppedy, thud.”

There was definitely stuff in there. Unfortunately, the entrance to the speaker was only dilated to a three. If you’re not up on pregnancy/labor lingo then I will be more specific. Nothing would be coming out of that speaker any time soon unless surgical measures were taken (I would know). Being that the speakers were relatively new and expensive, we decided to cut our losses.

Two days later, I had a brilliant idea. Doug and I played a game called “Find what is Hidden in the Dark Scary Cave.” Doug’s hands were just tiny enough to make it through the small speaker hole. We cheered exuberantly as he retrieved the following items: Ryan’s keys, a small flashlight, a long wooden snake, a finger puppet, several fruit snack wrappers, a very malleable stuffed animal, some screws and nails, a small ball, a tatertott, and the kitchen sink... Okay, the tatertott was a fabrication, but everything else was really in there.

My child is turning two. Just in time for the second baby to arrive. Great.

Today, after another disheartening tantrum, I closed myself in my room and took a few deep healing breaths. Then, I retrieved the squealing Doug and put him bath tub. Sure enough, the warm water caused him to forget his squawking. I laughed as he lifted his leg to the tub’s rim and began “shaving” his legs. Perhaps it is time that I begin taking my showers with the bathroom door locked.

I lifted my squeaky clean toddler out of the tub and wrapped him in a towel. The towel was immediately cast side and naked Doug dashed into the living room where he ran around and around in circles whooping and hollering. No doubt a few nude somersaults would have been added to the performance if I hadn’t grabbed him. A toddler without a diaper is a dangerous thing.

I diapered him and put him in his jammies. Granted, it was only 11:00 a.m., but the jammies were for my benefit. Honestly, who could be mad at a child in form-fitting soft jammies. I hugged my little Naughty and kissed his soft cheeks.

Every night, Ryan and I sneak into sleeping Doug’s room to make sure he is warm enough and to kiss his little forehead goodnight before we go to sleep. Doug looks so gentle and innocent...even after a full day of screaming, breaking things, and refusing to eat anything except fruit snacks.

Lately, after saying goodnight to my sleeping boy, I have gone to my own bed frustrated. Not with Doug, but with myself. I then pray that I can be a more patient mommy and more understanding of his developmental stage. He is still my little angel, perfect and pure. I love him so much that it hurts. I want to do better.

Ready to Hatch

“Looks like someone is nesting!”

Ryan’s proclaimation upon entering out home a few days back was nothing short of… true. I am in nesting mode.

Cleaning the toilet with a toothbrush, a toothpick and undiluted bleach now takes precedence over other important instincts, such as breathing, eating, and Grey’s Anatomy.

I organized the walk-in closet the other day. True, rearranging large boxes containing clothing, books and lead is no job for a woman in her ninth month, but Ryan was not home. It HAD to be done that very instant. Besides, no one else could possibly rearrange the closet in precisely the right way. I am the only one. I AM PREGNANT AND IT MUST BE DONE MY WAY… for the baby’s sake, of course.

The main focus of my recent hours has been getting the nursery ready. Since Doug and Kiana will be sharing a room, I’ve had to find common ground with colors. I chose Autumn colors (because Autumn is the best season in the world ever) and denim. My mother-in-law and I have been working on the bedding and I started painting wall hangings for above their beds. I am going to buy some Norman Rockwell prints to top everything off (I will post pictures when everything is ready).

Basically, I am just excited not to be pregnant anymore. And a pleasant byproduct of “not being pregnant anymore” will be a new baby.

Romney Speech

I liked what my husband had to say about the Mitt Romney speech...

"Speaking post Romney speech, I thought that he gave a very moving speech. It was a magnificent reminder of the role religious faith must play in government and public policy. If nothing else, I hope people not of the Mormon faith saw that Mitt is a man who will be true to his beliefs in spite of any power or position that could be gained by denying them. That he will act on faith because this country was founded and built on the principals of faith. And most importantly he will fight to keep God in the forefront of our countries political landscape."
-Ryan Douglas Lee (smart man with cute bum).

I personally don't think the speech will boost Romney in the poles--people who don't like Mormons are not likely going to change their minds--but I thought the speech was well-said and important.

Mitt Romney represented our faith well.

I am glad that Romney did not address specific doctrine. I don't think it would have been appropriate for him to do so. But I hope his speech prompts people to do some research ono their own. I would love people to know the true doctrine of the church and not the falsehoods they see on HBO.

Glass Booth

This is the first year of my life that I am actually interested in politics. I listen to NPR. I watch CNN. I pay attention during presidential debates. I have an opinion and can hold my own in a political discussion.

Does this mean that I am a grownup?

Does this mean that I am smart?

Much to my astonishment, I also found out that I am a republican. I’d always assumed that I was a democrat because I am a Robinson. Robinsons are democrats. I liked telling people that I was a democrat because it shocked them. At BYU, it sometimes angered them. I found this fun.

However, upon telling others that I was a democrat I just prayed that they wouldn’t ask me why. I didn’t really know what it meant to be one and I didn’t have the attention span to find out.

Perhaps encouraged by my husband, or disgusted by the over-liberal ladies on The View, I took it upon myself to discover what I really believe.

I now understand the merit of democratic views and think that it is a pretty perfect system in an ideal world. However, this world is far from ideal. Thus, I sway to the right.

I won’t go into my political beliefs, but I will say that this is an extremely interesting and important election coming up. I have put a lot of thought into my priorities and who would best represent my family as President of the United States.

A tool I found interesting was glassbooth.com. You take a short quiz and then the website tells you what candidates most closely aligns with your beliefs. I was surprised by my political match. I will probably not vote for him.

Here’s why: I find him incredibly unattractive. I could put this aside if he had a redeeming personality, but he doesn’t. I don’t like how he conveys his ideas. He is gruff. I wouldn’t like our country’s president to have poor people skills. We need a diplomat.

Luckily, my second-best match is a well-spoken okay-looking human being. He might be my choice.

On a side note, tomorrow Mitt Romney is going to give a speech about Mormonism. Do you think this is a good idea? I will be interested to see how this will affect his campaign and the way my religion is viewed in this country.

Bums

I am a bum person. I like bums. If you've ever been friends with me, related to me, or once dated me, then you have likely been on the receiving end of a bum pinch, a good-natured spanking, or an atomic wedgie (or a “Melvin” as they are called in Utah). Lucky for me, I am married to one of the cutest bums of all time (hi Babe).

I just like bums.

Usually.

While at the U of U vs. BYU game, an extremely annoying Cougar fan, upset by an unfavorable call, stood up and screamed heinous words at the referee. His malignant word usage and offensive sportsmanship was enough to make me decide that he and I could in no way ever be kindred spirits.

To make matters worse, the enraged fan leaned over the railing to scream his obscenities. This was a BIG problem because I was next to the railing. The fan's ginormous fat stinky bum was aimed directly in my face. I wouldn’t usually remark on the size of aroma of someone’s hindquarters except for the fact that this man was obnoxious and hateful and did I mention that his bum was in my face?

On a more pleasant note, Huggies sent me a sample newborn diaper. Oh my heck! It was so little! It was so cute! I totally forgot that newborn bums are so little and cute! It made me extra excited for Kiana’s arrival.

It also made me realize that Doug’s two-year-old bum is HUGE! How did I not see this before? I compared Kiana’a diaper to Doug’s diaper and decided that potty training MUST happen immediately!

And if Doug’s bum is huge, then my bum must be colossal. And if my bum is colossal, then the “super fan’s” bum must have its own zip code, weather system and at least three McDonald's restaurants.. The thought made me dizzy. So, I stowed the newborn diaper away along side the pink baby clothes and baby blankets. No more bum contemplating for now.