Fat by choice

Okie dokie peeps. Here is the deal. I've seen a few things floating around Facebook about obesity.

Guess what, they are always posted by skinny people (not all you skinny people are crazy, some of you are super cool... you know, like my husband Greg. Good guy right there.)

So the first one that got me going was posted by a gal, it was a picture of fruits and veggies and had some caaaatchy slogan about how if you don't want to be fat, eat better food.

Ummmm.... palm to forehead genius. Where did you read that at? In some book? Have you spent a lot of time obsessing about your weight? Guess what, I've heard that same thing. Probably in that same class.

The next wild thing she will probably post will be a little chart showing how your calories in have to equal or be less than calories out to lose weight. I'm so grateful for her guidance.

The second was an article some dude posted about how obese people should be kicked off of health care plans because we are a drain on the system. I only have one reply to that, we are really going to let the government have control over one more thing? What happens when your wife now in her 20's has a hysterectomy in her 50's and gains 50 pounds she cant get rid of? Then what? Or when your Mountain Dew/ Energy Drink habit catches up with you and you suddenly can't figure out what ruined your heart or kidneys. My point is... for the love of all that is good in this World, please don't give the government control over anything else. Especially something that isn't always as easy to control as you think it is. You with your catchy fruit and veggie slogan. (You being the people who are talking about obesity, but have never struggled with it.)

This is the part where I share some stats about my own journey with you. Don't worry, I'll save the nekky pictures for when I'm ready for a little bit bigger shock factor. For now, I'll keep those tucked away.

I'm going to start in the middle of my story. Seems like a good starting point for a journey that I've lived through and doesn't always make sense to me.

I honestly don't remember what I weighed in High School. Somewhere above the 200 pound mark. I specifically remember weighing 235 pounds all through college.

There are three types of people reading this.... The first are thinking HOLY SHIT, 2 hundred 35 pounds. Isn't that the same as a mini horse?

The second are thinking "I'd like to weigh 235 pounds. See weight is all about where you are in your journey.

The Third (*cough* Greg) are like "- ok. 235 pounds." This third group have no idea what they weigh. Or what other people should or do weigh. (Greg have I told you what a good dude you are lately?)

In the middle of my first year of teaching I realized I was gaining weight... So I started doing better. By the end of that school year I weighed 277 pounds (again, with the holy shit? You need to get more creative.)

 I had already started running/walking had cut out fast food and soda and still seemed to lose 5 pounds and then gain 2. It was a a battle.

This wasn't my first diet. I skipped about 10 years worth of dieting, depression, and an abusive relationship, stress, college... all that jazz. Mostly because who the hell wants to read all that BS? Second, the skinny girl/guy posting those things on Facebook won't care anyway. All they will see is a girl who ate more than her body needed and gained weight.

Guess what, I did. I know.

So in 2011 I underwent weight loss surgery and had a lap band placed. Don't worry this wasn't a drain on your personal wallet. Most insurances don't cover weight loss surgery and I paid out of pocket 10k for the surgery. Mostly because I don't give two shits about the person setting on the sidelines judging me for being fat. I care about me and my quality of life. I believe food addiction is a disease and it is ignored.

I lost 110 pounds (Holy shit, right?) I felt great.

I maintained between 167-177 for 3 years. Got married (hey Greg) and then soon after Pregnant.

Shooting back up to 246 pounds on the day I delivered my cute little PJM.

I remember blindly watching that number skyrocket. I remember tracking my calories and staying in my range and still gaining weight. By the time that baby got here my depression had stolen all the joy from pregnancy. I was not the girl my husband had married and I was not a person I liked very much. All because of weight. I let weight still my joy of being able to carry a baby? If that isn't a sickness, I don't know what is.

This morning I weighed in at 189 (holy shit... hahahah I make myself laugh.)

Here is the point where I tell you people sitting on the sidelines judging me for being obese to shut your mouth and go talk about Bruce Jenner and that silly lion.... or maybe Planed Parenthood (Now there are some skeesballs and we are so lucky we are funding that as a government. Heaven forbid I have extra fat...ok, ok I digress)

Anyway have you done any of the following?

1. Given everyone a piece of the birthday cake and then after they go to bed dumped the leftovers in the gargbage because you can't be trusted with them?
2. Have you skipped out on events because you don't want to be tempted by the goodies that will be there?
3. Have you happily drank your protein shake and pretended it really did taste like vanilla instead of chalk?
4. Have you gone to bed hungry more often than not because your calorie intake was maxed out for the day?
5. Have you forgone extra fun things so you could pay for your crossfit membership/a road bike/running shoes/ race entry?
6. Have you ran until you threw up?
7. Have you biked until you wanted to throw up?
8. Have you packed around the weight of an entire extra person?

If you haven't, you don't know the weight I've carried. You don't know my struggle. You don't know my story.

There are better ways to encourage than your snide posts on Facebook, if it is your aim to encourage. Call me crazy, but I think the main goal is to shame, prove supperiority and just in general be an ass bout something I'm struggling with and you in general don't have to think about that often.

Being a Real Mom and a Bonus Mom

I didn’t even know that term “Bonus Mom” existed until months after I had become one. I was searching for the right title, something, anything that didn't have step in front of it.   

You see, from the beginning I just didn’t believe that “Step-mom” was a term that applied to me. It implies a distance, space between the kids and me. I’ve always thought that if I really love Greg  (which I do)How could I only “kind of” love them? How could I love them with space between us?

The day I became a Mom, is day I married their Dad. It wasn’t just Greg and I. It was all four of us. From the moment I fell in love with him, I loved his babies.  

But I couldn’t call myself “the mom.” They have a mom, a great one. I don’t want to take her place; I’m not even tempted to try. I respect her too much.

Those first few months were the hardest. Where did I fit in? Why had God decided to make me a part of this plan? Even for a moment I wondered why I couldn’t have it easier.  Why did these amazing kids feel like a heavy blessing at times? It was the strangest feeling, to carry a heavy blessing.  How is a girl like me supposed to know how to be a mom, the extra mom; the Bonus Mom. I didn’t know. I cried a lot those first few months. It all seemed so overwhelming, so impossible. How was all of this supposed to work?  Poor Greg, I’m sure it seemed that I needed constant reassurance. How was I supposed to know what was best for someone else’s children? Someone who was doing such a good job?  What was my role supposed to be?

As the time passed, the heaviness of the blessing began to lighten. These sweet babies were becoming mine in a way; our own special way. No longer was I wondering how we fit in with each other, we just found our groove. I found my spot in their lives. My own special spot that includes loving them in my own way, having our own special experiences; horses, cows, four wheelers, I couldn’t be like their Mom.  We aren’t the same person. I can’t fill that void for them, and I don’t need to. What I could do is add more love. More adventures. We are raising children as a team of four, children that have many opportunities.

Then PJ was his own special spirit, my first born but not my first child. I cried over the thought of never having one child, never having an opportunity to discover what just one felt like. Then I cried because it was such a blessing to have more than one.

My biggest fear was that I would feel differently about J and E than I did about PJ. How was I going to treat them the same, but love them differently? How would I keep them from knowing? I just didn’t know. I cried and prayed and cried some more, for months. When PJ was just a few weeks old, I realized something. I didn’t feel any differently about him than I did about my other children.

No different. I love them. All three of them. Love them, worry about them, miss them.  They are my children.

The only thing that has changed since having PJ is that I now KNOW what I am missing while J and E are not with us. I don’t know how or if I will ever be able to forgive myself for all the things I am missing out on. All the things I just won’t be there for because of the distance, because of the circumstances.

Being the Bonus Mom is hard work. I won’t ever know, so I’m only speculating, but I bet the only job that is harder is being The Mom and sharing with a Bonus Mom.

Our Start

This is a blog post for Justin and Evelyn.

My babies.

I love your Mom.

I love your Papa.

Most of all, I love you. Both of you.

Your Papa, now he is a good feller. I waited a really long time for him. There were times I never thought he would make an apperance.

I didn't understand why I had to wait so long to find my Prince Charming.

Now I know.

He was married to your Mommy.

Bringing joy to my life before he ever knew me.

It was for you, both of you. That is why I had to wait.

You were both worth it.

I wouldn't have it any other way.

These are pictures of the first day we met. You won't remember it. I'll never forget.

Not quite newborn pictures, are they?

It might not be where everyone starts, but it is a perfect start.

It is our start.

Exactly how it was supposed to start.

The bearded man moved in Dr.Pepper

So a long time ago I wrote about how I would never drink Pepsi again. I swore the last one would be with my "Last Supper." You can read about it here

You know what? I have stuck to that. I never went back to that Pepsi. It was a clean break.

The real problem happened when I married my handsome husband.

 

 

**He started the beard for no shave November and just never quit.**

Well when that handsome guy moved in, he brought Dr. Pepper with him. It is constantly in the fridge. I never told him I wasn't strong enough for it to be there. I never asked him to keep it in his cooler, or not to keep the fridge stocked. I thought I was strong enough.... I wasn't

So today, again, I will say goodbye to that icy friend(enemy?) and move forward with the weight loss journey that is never ending.



This weeks new sweater... I can't get the picture to rotate.

 

ANNNNNNNNND!!!!! My dream house. I am seriously in love with this house. **sigh** one day.

Roller Derby-ing.

 So here is what I have figured out.

I could <3 roller derby, a lot. They wear crazy outfits and skate fiercly and workout, more than just skating. And I could tell from our 1 hour little get together that it is a community. These girls/women are exercising and having fun.

With that being said, I will not be joining the bad ass ladies of roller derby. Which really is a shame because the possibility of creating my own Derby Doll name and having my first expiereince with a sport that requires a mouth piece would have been epic; the stories alone are almost worth it.

Here is the main reason I will not be a Derby Doll. They practice 3 nights a week. Every week. For the entire year. Then they travel for competition and all of that. The amount of time this community needs to really give it my all is more than I can commit right now.

So at the end of the “fresh meat” recruitment session last night they asked me specifically if I would be joining. I replied with “I don’t think so.” They wanted to know why, so I told them. 1. I’m training for a Ragnar and 2. I have a new baby. They Chief replied with “we all have children, that isn’t an excuse.” First, it wasn’t an excuse. I was just being honest with how I wanted to spend my time and what I could commit to. Second, put the claws away.

Round is a shape...

It is easier to get in shape when you have already done it, or already are.

I really believe that.

When I first started working out I had no idea what I was doing. I had never been to a class, didn't have the shoes, didn't have a thing I needed.

Mostly I didn't have the tools, or the friends.

This time around, it is easier.

I've only truly been back at the grind for about 1 week and already I've been invited to train for a Ragnar. You can read about my first experience here. I ran into my Crossfit coach and she invited me to come back to a class.... You can read about my first experience with that here. I was terrified.

See, all these things that were so HARD so INTIMIDATING before have already been done. These are familiar waters.

Ladies, it is a good day to be alive.

Tonight is Roller Derby night. Living a life no longer intimidating.

 

I'm gonna need a tat!

Today I am winning the fight.

How good it feels to be trying to get healthy.

I mean seriously, why do I forget?

I went home on Wedensday and got on the treadmill (I wish I had a picture of my running clothes. EEK, not good.)

I always have this thought that I have to start at the beginning. Like I am always going back to 277 pounds. It wasn't, I could run for a couple minutes and then walk. It felt so good.

I've been, what I consider, on point with my food and I'm using my lapband as a tool again. I'm not sure I would know what to do without it.

I've forgot what confidence comes with taking charge of my health. I'm so glad to be working on myself.

It isn't about being where I was, it is about feeling the way I felt. Does that make sense? I'm focusing more on the feelings and enjoying the moments instead of what the scale reads. I have faith that the scale will follow.

I was starting to turn down things, refuse to do things that I like because of how big I was becoming again. Today I am winning the fight.

My new piercing (still swollen.) I think it is so cute!

My new glasses and my post run face!

Christmas present and proof that I got moving!

Tuesday Newsday

Mini goal for the week is to exercise 30 minutes 3 times a week.

Next week my mini goal will be trying out a local roller derby team. They are doing a Fresh Meat Boot camp. I'm pretty dang excited. I can't find any of my regular peeps that are willing to give it a shot, so I'm going at this one alone....unless I can get my sister to try it out. I don't know why a person would want to give it a roll.

I also got a new treadmill for Christmas and haven't used it one time. I'm cutting myself some slack because I did just have a baby. I'll be getting on it tonight for a 30 minutes of walking, possibly some jogging.

Last Tuesday's weight: 222.6
This week: 220.6

Loss of 2 pounds.

Start weight: 277

Lowest recorded weight: 162 (Holy Shit....)

I am doing so good and getting adjusted to my new life.

Post about me

So where am I? I'm here... back to work and finding a balance between being a mom and being a teacher. It is working out.

Right before I had PJ I weighed 246 pounds. This morning I weighed in at 222.6.  So, I have a long ways to go.

Here is a picture of me in a sweater I hope fits soon...

 

It is tight and you can see where the weight gain has happened, but I don't look terrible.

 

I will also be updating my goal list. There is just something rewarding about crossing things off of a list for me!

 

 

Meet the baby!

I can’t believe that the last time I blogged I was 39 weeks pregnant. Where does the time go?
 

I did have a baby, but he did take his sweet time getting here.  12 days late.

He was born on 11/12/14, weighed 7 lbs 7oz and 21” long…. I’d like to say it was love at first sight, but you all know I always tell the truth here.

I thought that having a baby at 27 would be better than having a baby at 18; you know I’d just be more “ready.” I don’t know if that was the case or not. One thing I do know is that it was the biggest adjustment ever. And it hurt. The first time I went to pee, well that was hell. Guess what else; they give you a stool softener in the hospital. Do you know what happens when you have suffered from significant constipation since getting banded and then even more severe constipation while pregnant and then they give you a stool softener? Imagine having multiple bowl movements with stitches in your lady bits. It was as fun as you can imagine. I cried.

I didn’t just cry in the hospital, but I cried most days for the first few weeks. It was the biggest shock of my life. I couldn’t go anywhere, I didn’t get enough sleep, my house was a mess….. And I didn’t know it, but I was suffering from depression. That was the key to all of this. Looking back now, I can recognize that I was depressed for my entire pregnancy and then after having PJ it just got worse.  My Mom went to the Dr with me and when he asked how I was and I replied “good.” My Mom told him the truth. I wasn’t. So, I am officially on an antidepressant and I haven’t felt this good in ages.  He told me that most likely I will only need it for a few months, but I am so glad to finally feel like myself again.

The best part? With the depression out of the way I finally fell in love with being a mom. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always wanted PJ to be safe and I have always loved him, but when you don’t like yourself, it is hard to do much of anything that is positive. I hope that makes sense.

Meet PJM
9 weeks. 13 lbs 5 oz

 

39 weeks

So, I'm finally 39 weeks pregnant.

It seems the time has flown and stood still. All at once.

I have spent the last few weeks scrambling to get everything finished at work and making sure that all the ends are tied up so that they can function without bothering me for the 8 weeks I will be gone.

I have held steady at 235 pounds for over a month now. That is up 46 pounds from the 189 I weighed when I got pregnant. I won't be dwelling on the fact that 189 was HIGH for what my maintenance weight was. Oh man, I swear I will love the 170's and my body like never before when I finally get back there.

I had a dream the other night that I ran 8 miles. It was so real. The burn in my lungs and the weight of my legs. I woke up sad that I had become such a sloth.

I will be a warrior again. It will just take time. I'm not going to allow obesity to become a part of my life again. I just can't.

38 plus weeks.

38 weeks.

Last year my sister and sister in law were pregnant. This year, my sister in law and myself are preggers. So stinking cute!

 

 

So, I think I'm pretty dang cute pregnant. I also think it is amazing what our bodies can do! Can you believe that cute belly is carrying a human? It is seriously is amazing.

 

I think I have learned to be comfortable in my body. To love myself no mater the size, but I will not stay this size. I can't. It is too hard on my joints. On my body. I found the freedom of my body being able to do anything I want it to do. Now that I have had  taste of it, I won't be content until there again.

The post about geting a van

First off has anyone talked to Hollee? I know she was revised to the sleeve last week and I talked to her after surgery and the next day or two, but now she seems to be off the grid.


I've been in denial for months about trading in my beloved Ford Fusion (beloved, mostly because she was paid for and I LOVE not having a car payment.) I've been telling myself that I could fit all three car seats and the dogs in that car. The logistics of it weren't really in my favor, but I figured where there is a will, there is a way.

Not so in this case. They just don't fit. The car seats, not even including the dogs. Bust seriously, who can leave home without having room to take their dogs if it is a dog appropriate trip. Which is almost anywhere, in my opinion.

So, I told my husband that we should just go ahead and get a van. I need something with good MPG but my heart just wasn't in it. You know? I think that is why it took me so long to finally just bite the bullet.

This was my alternative to a van....

not my car, just an example from the internet.

 

Not too shabby, in my opinion. I know it is a little unique, and not everyone's taste, but I have been in love with them since they first came out. They seat 7 and get 17-23 MPG. Basically a van without having to go there. Thank the heavens.

 

Now we are a car payment poorer, but at least I won't be stuck at home unable to leave when this baby gets here in 6 weeks. Can't be sad about that.

 

Haven't gained any weight in the last month and I am so grateful for that. No other band related news. Just chillin here in Gods Country!

 

How are you ladies doing?

How the heck?

How does the time go so quickly and yet seem to drag on?

I'm 33 weeks pregnant and counting. Everything seems to be going well, but since this is my first go of it, what the heck do I know?

I do know I haven't reached the point of being "ready" for the baby to get here. I'm just overwhelmed by that thought.

That's how I would describe being pregnant. Overwhelming.

I oftentimes lay awake at night for hours counting baby kicks. Stressing if I don't think I feel enough of them. Stressing if he is moving more than usual.

I stop so many times in the middle of the day and "check" on him.  I'm excited when he is here that I will be able to really check on him. At least then I will be up at night with baby cuddles and spit up instead of a panic and sinking feeling because I'm not sure I have felt him move enough. **I can now see why some women rush to the ER so frequently during pregnancy. ALL RATIONAL THOUGHT LEAVES. Ugh. **

This Friday is my baby shower. I am so excited to see my family and friends! I just cant think of  a better reason to get together than little baby items.

Then I need to finish organizing the baby room and then buy anything I am still lacking.

I also have anxiety about when to pack a hospital bag? I figure I'll just push that one off for a few more weeks.

What do I know?

I hope you ladies are doing well and that your scales are being kind and your jeans are fitting loose!

**hugs**

Prenatal Classes

In my opinion there are two types of pregnant ladies.

The first doesn't really complain about anything. Except maybe to her husband (oh, my poor husband.) Said husband on any given day may hear about every single pain associated with carrying a baby. I say it is just their part of pregnancy :)

The second complains about everything to everyone. Even to people who aren't really listening.

I'm telling you, it drives me crazy. They post it on Facebook, talk about it in prenatal classes. In fact many are so dramatic that a person would think that they were the first to ever be pregnant. These women are convinced that they are having the most horrible pregnancy in the history of pregnant women.

I don't feel like I am exaggerating.

The second type of these women are frustrating to me, but really any constant complainer is. Some things just need to be share with your close friends and family. The rest of us know pregnancy sucks and don't really need you to go into deep details about your round ligament pain.

There was a type 2 and my first prenatal class. She was all about the I've been to the emergency room this many times.... I'm high risk because of.... The list was freaking endless. It was obnoxious. She was "One of those" who ask the same question 89 times because she wants the instructor to answer it a different way, or wants the class to know how pregnancy smart she is. Well we've all got Google Crazy lady and lots of random pregnancy facts floating around our heads, because HELLO, we are all pregnant.

I'm pretty sure she was all of 18 years old, if that. So I will try not to poke her in they eye during the next 5 classes.

The other things was, I went to the class by myself. You see, Greg loves his sports. Especially playing them and this class is on (one) of his softball nights. So I insisted that I wanted him to go to softball and I would go to the class.

I was sorry I had done that when I got there.

Anyone else ever wear their tough girl pants and then are sorry for it later? It doesn't happen to me very often, most of the time I know my own mind and know what I want/need from Greg and I am pretty upfront about. I misjudged on this one...

Babies

I thought I had written about a family event that happened last January, but I couldn't find the post. 

After much anticipation we were at the hospital waiting for Baby Chivers to arrive.

Weston. 

She had a typical pregnancy. With a couple small hiccups along the way (high blood pressure and a kydney infection.) 

We were there. In a hospital. Waiting. Doctors all around. 

Know what happened? Baby Weston was born without a heartbeat. Not one person can tell us why. After much work from the doctors he was back with us. 

He was life flighted to a childrens hospital, Primary Children's, and we were all full of hope. We were also fearful. This wasn't the first full term, healthy baby our family was threatened with losing. It was all too real.

At the end of Weston's short stay at Primary Children's we each came home carrying our own grief. 

Struggling to understand and cope with making funeral arrangememnts for a life so short. 

Wondering why. Trying to find comfort for ourselves and especially for my brother and his wife. 

Those small spirits bring so much love with them and they are loved even before we ever hold them. 

It was a new wave of grief for my older brother and his ex wife who also had a baby taken in circumstances very similar. Their grief was raw and real. 

This was all brought back to me today when a friend text to let me know that a dear friend of ours who had a due date for a little boy just a few weeks from now had went to the doctor because she hadn't felt her baby move in a little while. While there she found out that her baby had passed away.

I've been thinking about it since. Not quite in a panic, but fearful. Sad for her. Fearful for myself.

Love is such a risk. 

Today the weight of being pregnant and carrying the life of someone I love so much and have never met is overwhelming. 

Today it is heavy. 

baby steps

I went to the doctor yesterday for a baby check up.
Everything looks fine, except the weight gain. He brought it up, it brought me down.

I can't focus on the pounds right now. I'm focusing on being honest about what goes into my body and how I am feeling.

I will shed these pounds when the baby is here. I am sure of it. I can't live in this fat suit forever :)

Anyway, I let it get to me. So I ate. Chocolate. Cookies (which I purposely never keep in my house and someone brought me a plate... and Greg is gone for work.... so I ate them. The all of them.)  Ice cream. Chips. The list is pretty endless.

I'm up again today, fingers to the keyboard writing a blog. What can I say? Baby steps my friends.

When did you blog last?

My husband asked me last night "when did you blog last?"

It has been too freaking long and no good excuse.

My friend Rhonnie is being a badass and keeping the reins of her health and fitness tightly gripped. She wrote a blog post that I thought I specifically needed to read. She asked the question if my band had stopped working or if I had stopped working... read it HERE

I'm like a bunch of the ladies out there, struggling, thinking I failed, but you know what? I haven't.We haven't. It is just a bump in the road (a big one for me, but a bump however I look at it.)

One thing I want to be honest about, and I haven't said it to anyone else. I think I am struggling with pregnancy related depression. Now I don't think it is severe, but it is there and it is real.

Everything just seems like a bigger deal than it should. I obsess over the weirdest things and have the hardest time moving past the smallest set back... nothing like the normal me.

So I am 30 weeks pregnant today, I have a doctors appointment and I hope everything is good. Little Baby Meeks arrival is getting closer.

I've gained 38#'s and counting (though it has slowed down and I have been being more careful recently.) Sometimes all I can do physically is get through the day, even my beloved horse riding is becoming really uncomfortable and sometimes painful. So for me, right now, it is accountability for what goes in my mouth. Being honest about that. I will have to wait for my Dragon Warrior, Crossfit Status to be reinstated later.

Where are you in your fight with obesity and food addiction? I'm at the bottom, but I won't stay here for long. 40 weeks is really just a glitch in the system, not a permanent sign of where I will be.

I'll be blogging and commenting.

My husband shows his love by leaving me.

Since I've got nothing weightloss wise to share with anyone, I think I'll write a blog of another flavor.
All you lapbanders that are looking for running/crossfit/dragon warrior inspiration, just keep moving.

This one is about husbands. Husbands that leave their wives and kids.

Anyone who knows me very well at all, knows that I have a pretty healthy respect for my husbands ex-wife (for the purpose of this blog I will call her L.) I think L is doing a great job raising the kids (she is the primary care giver, they live 3 hours from us.) I also think she does a great job at putting the kids needs first and she has NEVER, I repeat NEVER tried to make it even more difficult for us to see the kids and whatever issuses her and my husband have, they leave the kids out of it.

In fact, I have been known to say that it is probably the best it can be, for what it is. Now don't go all crazy on me and think "nothing can be that perfect." It isn't perfect. It is just good and all 4 adults in the situation do what they can for the kids and try and leave their personal feelings out of it.... or at least not bring it up in front of the kids.

Have you read or seen some of the crazy nut jobs that call DCFS and/or the cops on each other all the time or talk bad about the other parent(s) in front of the kids? I have. So with that knowledge, I think we all have it pretty good.

NOW FOR THE POINT OF MY POST.

My husband works in the oilfield. If you don't know what that means, mostly it means decent money (that is dangerously unstable) and crazy hours with no set schedule. Even days off turn into work days and phone call days. It is just the nature of the beast.

Now oilfield worker is no different than rancher, farmer, doctor, lawyer and I'm sure the list goes on.

This is a post for all the husbands and wives out there that don't have a 9-5.

A revelation came a few weeks ago to me when I took the kids back to their mom, without Greg. You see, he had planned to go with me and we were going to leave at 5 when he "typically" gets off work. I told him earlier in the day to just let me know if he thought he would be late and I would go without him.  Typical day.

Well he called about 10:30 and said there was no way he would be able to go at 5, and since I would rather not travel all night, I decided to just go without him. Which is no big deal to me and doesn't bother their mom. So off we went.

We arrived almost the exact time that L got home from work and we were visiting like we always do. About the kids, and anything that came up while they were in either home. Well she said "I thought Greg was coming with you?" My reply was "he was, but then his schedule changed." She said "That sounds like Greg."

This is the moment that I had an Ah-ha moment (you know, like Oprah.)

That line "That sounds like Greg" stuck with me, kinda bugged me, ya know? So I pondered it. Like I do everything and this is the conclusion I came to.

She doesn't understand.

I can only speak for myself, for my situation and my husband. This is my perspective.

Oilfield worker, rancher, farmer, garbage man, lawyer, doctor... they are all the same. Maybe more than even they known. Maybe it is all men and women who go to work when they don't want to. When they know they will miss first steps, busted lips, hugs of comfort, funny things their children say, holidays and family gatherings. The list is endless.

In my case, Greg doesn't want to be gone. He doesn't want to miss the time we do get with the kids, or time with Baby Meeks when he gets here. He doesn't want to miss time with me.

Know what else probably isn't in his plan? Missing birthdays, answering phone calls during the only dinner we've eaten together in a week. Sending the text that ends the only date we have scheduled in months before it ever started. Working out of town and living out of a suitcase. Sometimes sharing a room with some guy he doesn't know, or even want to know. Washing his own laundry at a laudromat, after an 18 hour day, because his 4 day trip actually turned into 10.

His plan probably doesn't include comforting his wife about a bad day over the phone, or saying goodnight to his kids via FaceTime for what seems like the 100th time. No kisses, no "I want Papa to do it." He is missing out. He is missing them and us. What about his heartache?

He is not just missing out on kid stuff. He misses fireworks, rodeos, picnics, the news. He has to say no to golf games, leave softball games before they have even started. He misses out on some things that have nothing to do with being a dad or husband and everything to do with being a happy human.

His plans get interupted just as often as ours and yet we still get to be there and he has to leave. How are we getting the short end of the stick? I don't understand how someone can see it that way.

He is critizied for looking at his phone when his kids are around, leaving parties early, letting his teammates down.

Now in my case, Greg is a good husband and a great dad. So please no posts about your son in law, or ex husband or whoever that spent all of his time avoiding his kids, his responsibilty. Or when he was out of town or off work spending every night at the bar or the strip club. That isn't my Greg, it isn't the caliber of man I am writing about. Greg doesn't spend his time avoiding his family nor making excuses to be somewhere else. When I call and he doesn't answer, I know it isn't on purpose. When I don't get a text back for hours, I know he is busy.  Maybe he is out of service. Most likely he is in a situation that requires all of his concentration to stay safe and to do his part to help keep those around him safe. Greg isn't avoiding me, his family, he loves us. He proves it in how hard he works everyday.

He shows his love by leaving in the middle of the party with a smile on his face. Volunteering to skip a golf game (even though he hasn't played in weeks) because I just want him to come home. He shows his love for me by leaving me. By leaving his kids and going to work.  He shows his love by putting his wants and needs second.

The way I was raised groomed me to be an oilflied wife. My dad is a rancher and a business owner. He missed horse shows, school stuff... We always joke that he didn't even know what grade we were in, how old we were or which school to pick us up at. The truth? He didn't. The other truth? I have always known how much he loves his family. He shows us by leaving us. By providing for us. We may not of had a dad at the horse show, but how do you think we got there? His truck. Who paid the entry fees? he did. When we needed him, truly needed him, for the important things, he was there. He is still there.

Just like Greg and a bunch of other husbands and dads out there.

So please, please, please, don't confuse the "That sounds like Greg"  like some do, for what it truly is, "that sounds like the job."

Give the hardworking men of our lives credit for what they are really doing. Putting our needs, the needs of their families, ahead of their own needs and their own wants.

Give them credit for leaving us.

I have a monkey on my back

Soda. Soda pop. Pop.

My biggest achilles heel.

Remember all those years ago when I posted about my last ever soda and how I would never, ever, ever touch one again?

I held to that promise for so long.

I remember when the scale going down each week was all I needed to get up and go for a run, put down the cookie, say no thanks to the birthday cake. I avoided bread because I knew it wasn't band friendly.

I've talked about it before, but at my one year bandiversary and at 164 pounds a few people I really trust and love told me to stop obsessing, to give my body a break. "You've lost so much weight, so fast" they said. So I did. I took a step back and without even recognizing it, I went into my maintaince mode. Staying between 170-180 pounds for almost 18 months.

I developed maintance habits.

**I don't blame those people, I just wish I had known what a change in mindset at that point would do to me.**

Then what?

I fell in love with Gregy.

That happiness gave me something that I hadn't had in a long time, maybe ever. I found peace and comfort in myself. He helped me to realize that someone could love me, just for me.

Along with that happiness came a drop in the obsessive behaviors that had kept me from gaining weight for so long, but we were so active together and always going. And Gregy isn't a foodie. He doesn't even care about food - he forgets to eat? I am so envious of this.

The morning of our wedding, Novemember 2, I weighed 174 pounds. Completely in my comfort zone.

By Christmas I weighed 187 pounds. I had to buy a few new pants and shirts to get my by until I dropped those pounds. I was only looking at 10-14 pounds and so I wasn't too stressed. Easy peasy. Just a typical winter gain for me.

The end of Februray I was pregnant (so HAPPILY) but my band hated those initial pregancy hormones. I had to go to my Lap Band Lady- Amy and we made the decision to remove 1.0 cc from the fickle hooker that is my band.

By my 6 week check up I'd gained 10 pounds, taking me to 197 pounds. At this point, something clicked and I realized it was only going to get worse. How could it not, I am growing a human.

Today, at 24 weeks pregnant I weigh 217 pounds. The anxiety I have had over this entire situatuion has been sky high and the approach I have taken has been to "worry about it later."

My eating hasn't been perfect, but it hasn't been out of control either.

I think if I am being honest with myself I have two major issues.

1- I haven't been exercising at all. Not one bit. I can feel it. In my muscles, in my breathing, in my soul. The laziness of it all is overwhelming me. Eating at me. I can't decide if I don't have energy to get moving because I am  pregnant, or because during that first trimester I stopped doing all extra anything (during that time, I really couldn't do anything extra.)

2- My soda habit is back. Every. Single. Day. I pop the top on some sugary,bubbly, soda. It came back full force during the first trimester because I was falling asleep while instructing students and I was trying to function. (I know that there are all sorts of rules about what should/shouldn't be consumed during pregnancy, I've read them all and I am doing the best with the knowledge I havea and the knowledge of my doctor... I think we will all survive my Sunkist addiciton.) We may survive, but it isn't doing any favors on the scale.

I saw a picture of myself while moving cows on saturday. I died inside just a little bit. I do everytime I get on the scale or see a picture.

Me, in the pink.... Sad face. 

I know I'm growing a small human- I know it is a miracle.

I just don't know how to balance it. How to make it right. I also don't know what life after a baby will look like. How to put it into my head, how to organize how I will lose weight after the baby is here?

Maybe it is the unknown that is getting to me?

My Lap Band/Baby Doctor Amy told me she knows I have the willpower and strength to take care of it after the baby is here.

I think she is right...

I know she is right... Where the hell is my Dargon Warrior? I think the pregnancy hormomes have made her sleepy too.

but how do I do a bit of damage contorl between now and Novemeber 3rd?

Looking kinda pregnant and cute.
24weeks

I guess what I am saying friends is that I know I can do it. I know I will do it.... I also know the hard work and the time it will take. 

First things first.... get that monkey off my back.

Don't look at old pictures....

So i'm officially 21 weeks pregnant.

I weigh 212. I've kinda just accepted it.

The one thing it has taught me, is to be much happier with myself when I am in the place again where I weigh 170. I felt good then. I like how my body felt when I moved.

I will be content when I am there. I will stop thinking I'll be happy when I weigh 150.

Bless a little baby for helping me to see the light.

Me when I weighed 175-177 and couldnt wait to get back to 167.  Now I think I look so skinny.

Seriously, this chick is adorable. 

I needed a serious reality check.

So, on to more baby news.

Wanna know the latest that has had me stressed out? Ok, ok, the truth. I have been stressed about it since Greg and I decided to have a baby. 

Telling our babies other Mom that we are expecting. 

I think I should write and entire post about Me and the Other Mom that is in my life. 

I will, the Great, Good, Bad and Ugly. 

A picture of me from a week or two ago. :) Who is this chunky girl in the mirror.  I really don't think I look pregnant, in my eyes I just look chunky. 

Sorry about the goofy face... I do what I can :)