18 months

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There is no November 31st, so Lucy doesn’t technically have a half-birthday. So, sometime in the past few days, Lucy turned 18 months old.

First off, her stats from her pediatrician visit: she’s 32.5 inches tall (75th percentile), 27 pounds (85th percentile), and her head is off the charts. Both of my girls take after me, I’m afraid. Y’all will never be able to pull off hats – sorry, babies.

Meanwhile, her hair is epic.

Can we please discuss the back of Lucy's head? What on earth am I supposed to do with that???

Sometimes I can take to it with a Knot Genie and some No More Tangles and get it under control. And then it looks adorable.

"After" pic: I used No More Tangles spray & the Knot Genie. But it was matted up again by the time we got to daycare. Oy, this child.

It also lasts about five minutes before it looks like that first picture again. Sigh.

We are nowhere near being done with the bottle. I know. I KNOW. The pediatrician has already lectured me about this that we need to ditch the bottle soon, because the longer I let her keep it, the harder it will be down the road.

And I admit that this is an area where I’m weak. She stands at the refrigerator and screams, “Ba-ba!!” And I cave every time. Because I am a single mom, and I am exhausted, and there are two of them and only one of me, and look, let’s face it: the path of least resistance is often the path that I choose.

Look, Ma, no hands. (Also: most kissable belly ever.)

Honestly, pediatrician lectures aside? I just don’t care. If she still has the bottle in kindergarten, I’ll start to worry. I just cannot even fathom trying to tackle that one right now.

Also, if there was any concern that maybe she’s drinking too much milk and not eating enough “real” food? HAAAAA. Girlfriend eats everything. I cannot give her enough fruits and vegetables. Her normal breakfast is often a tomato or a pile of steamed broccoli. Yes, that’s weird, but she asks for it and I’ll be damned if I’m going to say no.

I figure that probably in a year or two, she’s going to refuse all healthy foods and live on a diet of hot dogs and air, so I’ll just load her up with all of the vegetables that she wants right now, and figure that it’ll all balance out in the end.

My parents are still her favorite people in the world, but so is her big sister. Every morning when she comes to get me, the next thing she says is, “Catie night-night?” Yes, baby, Catie is still going night-night. She’ll imitate me with her finger to her lips when I say, “Shhhhh!” so she doesn’t wake her big sister. We’ll head downstairs and turn on cartoons. Pretty soon Catie wakes up and we’ll all pile on the couch together.

Lazy Sunday snuggles. (Catie was kissing Lucy, not biting her.)

I love those few minutes of cuddling with both of them before we have to start getting ready for work/school/daycare.

I’m sure I’ve griped about it plenty, but the past few months have been really rough with Lucy and sleeping. I don’t know why, but she just cannot seem to sleep through the night anymore. I’m now working on sleep training her all over again, which is difficult. I spend a lot of time sitting in the hall, dozing off while leaning against the door of the linen closet.

It’s rough. And there are lots of tears on both of our parts. But hopefully we’ll get through this quickly.

I don’t know how to sum up how funny she is, but man. My mom said she once read an article about birth order, and it talked about how oldest children are often serious, cautious, and work hard in school (which is accurate for both Catie and my sister). And the second child is the “performer” – the article had a photo of a toddler in a top hat with a cane, and my mom said she laughed because that was exactly like me when I was a kid.

So in that sense? Lucy is pretty much my replica. She loves to entertain us by making faces and jokes and just being silly and wacky. Which is pretty much exactly like her mama.

Sometimes a girl just needs to run around in her birthday suit and some 3D glasses. Don't judge.

(Granted, I don’t usually run around naked wearing only 3D glasses. Anymore.)

(Or at least, if I do, you won’t find pictures of it on the Internet.)

She got sick over Thanksgiving (sinus infection), and it was bad because she was trying so hard to still be our little entertainer, but she could only do it for a little while before she’d collapse in tears. It was rough. Luckily she’s all better now. And thank goodness, because I really missed my little goofball.

Happy half-birthday, Lucy-goose. I can’t wait to see what comes next.

Liquid Lessons Learned

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I did the liquid diet for 5 days.

I also lost 10 pounds in 5 days.

(Yes, I know that’s mostly water weight. I’m hoping actual pounds lost is two. Even that might be optimistic, I don’t know.)

I have also decided, as of the piece of whole wheat toast that I broke down and ate this afternoon, that I am officially DONE with this whole liquid diet experiment.

It was interesting, and I learned a lot about myself – mainly, that I do have more willpower than I ever gave myself credit for, and that it is possible for me to feed the kids without nabbing a bite of their stuff for myself. It’s hard as hell, but I can do it. And hopefully if I can continue to do it long enough, it will eventually become a habit.

I learned how very little it takes for me to actually start to feel satisfied, and that I need to listen to my body cues and pay closer attention to that, to help me control my portions. I think the diet books call that “mindful eating.” The whole idea of putting down your fork in between bites, not eating in front of the TV or computer (damn, that one is HARD for me), that kind of thing. So I’m going to continue to work on that.

And I learned how much better I feel when I’m not full of salty junk food and when I’m really well-hydrated. (Probably TMI, but OMG y’all, the peeing this week. It has been INSANE.) I thought I was drinking a lot of water before, but I learned that I need way more water than I’ve been having. I’ll keep up with that too.

So, hopefully, even though the liquid diet is over, this will be a good launching point for me, and I can keep some of the momentum and continue to lose weight. We’ll see, anyway.

Fingers crossed.

past the halfway point

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I’m on day 4 of the liquid diet. How’s it going, you might ask? Well, let’s see…

* Day 1 – Hey, this isn’t so bad!

* Day 2 – Holy crap, somebody is going to die before this week is over.

* Day 2.5, part 1 – I cracked. And let me tell you, that was the most delicious handful of baby carrots I have ever eaten in my entire life.

* Day 2.5, part 2 – I’ve decided that negative-calorie foods (meaning raw celery, plain lettuce, etc. – things that burn more calories in chewing/digesting them than they contain in them) just don’t count. Because OMG, I NEED TO CHEW SOMETHING.

* Day 3 – Major headache, I’m guessing from carb/sugar withdrawal. It sucks.

* Day 3.5 (last night) – The combination of sleep deprivation (thanks to Lucy’s current sinus infection), the aforementioned headache, and the lack of food turned me into a Rage Monster. And that was when I almost hit Lucy.

It was bedtime, and she was crying and kept climbing out of her bed instead of going to sleep, which is not all that abnormal really, but for some reason it just pushed me over the edge. I don’t remember the last time I was that angry. I wanted to hit her. I wanted to throw her down the stairs. I wanted her to just… disappear. For that one moment, I hated my baby.

Instead of doing any of the horrible things in my head, I closed her bedroom door and walked away, and I left her to scream for a while. I essentially put myself in a time-out. I felt sick and my hands were shaking. I texted Greis (who is doing this liquid diet in solidarity with me this week because she is the most awesome friend ever), and I took some deep breaths and tried to calm myself down. Then I went back and got Lucy and gave her a bottle, and she was asleep about two minutes later.

And even though I know that that wasn’t really me, that it was just a lot of external factors overwhelming me, I still haven’t quite forgiven myself for the things that went through my head last night.

* Day 4 – So far I’m ok. Got the kids off to school this morning, no meltdowns or anything. This morning, I weighed myself and I was at a number I haven’t weighed in well over a year. (Yes, I know it’s mostly water weight, but I’ll take it.)

It occurs to me that I’ve made it over halfway already, and I’m grateful for that. I’m not sure if I’ll make it all the way through Saturday, but I’m going to give it my best shot.

Next time the Rage Monster shows up, though, I may have to just bite the bullet and give her some damn carbs already. Because I really don’t want to feel like that ever again.

wondering if vodka qualifies for a liquid diet…

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I was debating whether or not to talk about this here, and I decided that not talking about it makes it seem like something I’m ashamed of, so here goes.

I think it’s kind of public knowledge at this point, but I had gastric bypass surgery over ten years ago. (Btw, if you go look at that entry, all of the picture links are broken and I’m not sure where the original files are to try to fix them. I’ll work on that someday.)

I lost about 100 pounds from surgery. It absolutely changed my life and I don’t regret it for one second. But in the past 10 years, I’ve had two pregnancies and a relatively traumatic divorce (hello, several months of post-partum depression/anxiety combined with eating my feelings!). As of today, I’ve regained a little over 30 of the 100 pounds that I lost. I reached a number on the scale that made me panic. I think we all have THAT number in our heads, and it varies for each person, but it’s your own personal “HOLY CRAP!” number. In my case, that panic led me to set up an appointment with a bariatric surgeon.

They ran a lot of tests on me, and found that the space between my pouch (surgically-reduced stomach) and my small intestine has expanded. So, basically, when I eat, everything empties out of my stomach immediately, which is why I’m constantly hungry. And constantly eating. Bad cycle.

So, I could theoretically have what they call a “revision” of my surgery – where they go back in and reduce everything back down to its original post-surgery size. And I’m pretty sure my insurance would cover it. But that also means, you know, HAVING SURGERY. Which was not a big deal when I was 26 and single. But at this point, with two kids who need me to be on my game around the clock, the whole idea of “recovery time” makes it seem like an impossible thing to even consider.

The surgeon I met with suggested that I try a liquid diet for a week. The idea is to sort of hit a “reset” button on my appetite, and to try to kick-start my metabolism. I knew I couldn’t do that over Thanksgiving, so I started it today.

I have no idea what the outcome will be from this, and I’m terrified of failing, but I’m giving it a shot.

So, you know, if I seem a whole lot grumpier and more sensitive than normal for the next week? Well, now you’ll know why.

break-up post-mortem

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So. That breakup thing? Turns out it’s kind of kicking my ass.

When I texted The Guy on Sunday night that this was too hard and that I couldn’t do it anymore, and I was too close to falling for him and there were too many red flags and I knew we weren’t going to last long-term and I had to use my self-preservation instincts for once in my life… I don’t know what I was expecting. He didn’t text me back that night, or the next morning, so I figured that he was either really pissed or relieved to be rid of me.

I heard from him that afternoon, and he was just so, so sad. He understands, he knows what the problems are, and he understands why it’s too much for me to handle.

Honestly? That just made it worse. I mean, hey, call me a selfish bitch or tell me I’m a horrible person or fly off the handle or, just, SOMETHING that makes it easier for me to write you off. Don’t tell me what a wonderful person I am and how you want me to be happy and that you’re jealous of the lucky guy that gets to have me. That’s just not fair.

I texted him back, “Just FYI, you really suck at being an a$$hole.”

We’re going to try being friends and see how that goes. That basically means we’re still talking/texting every day. I told him I can’t see him in person for a while, I need some physical distance. I honestly don’t trust myself alone with him at this point. But he’s become such an integral part of my daily life over the past 8 months, I couldn’t imagine just cutting off all contact with him.

But I’ve been in this funk ever since Sunday night. I’m just so… sad. And I know it’s normal, this is what happens when a relationship ends. But it’s a holiday, and I feel like I should be happy, and I should be enjoying my family, and instead I can’t shake this black cloud that’s hovering over my head.

I’m trying to focus inward. To work on myself, to be more present for my girls, to realize that I don’t have to be in such a rush for every damn thing in my life to hurry up and happen already.

It’s just a lot harder than I expected.

Transitions.

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Random stuff from this weekend:

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My sister was here this weekend, and my mom and I went shopping for wedding dresses with her. That was… oh, man. It was bad. Two things:

1. Wedding dress sample sizes. I forgot how they’re all teeny-tiny (they say it’s a size 10 but it’s more like a 6), and they expect regular girls to somehow squeeze into these tiny dresses and try to get an idea of whether or not the same dress in our actual size (which is at least 2 sizes bigger than what we wear in regular clothes, because I guess wedding dress designers really like to screw with a woman’s self-esteem on the single most special day of her life by making her feel like a moose) will look good on us.

God, y’all, poor Tracy. I had been all, “Yay! Dress shopping! Fun!” Then as soon as she started putting them on, I was like, “ohhhh, PTSD, dude.” I feel so bad for not warning her in advance. I forgot about all of the bridal shops that I cried in because I hated the way I looked in all of their dresses. I swear it’s more traumatic than swimsuit shopping. At least in a swimsuit, you can think, “Ehh, I’ll blend in at the pool, no biggie.” In a wedding dress, you KNOW everyone is going to be looking at you. It’s horrible.

2. If you are a bride-to-be who is going shopping for anything wedding-related, you should perhaps think twice before inviting along someone who’s been divorced for all of a month. Bitterness and cynicism, party of two, your table is ready!

I fear I am a terrible, terrible maid of honor. Sigh.

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The girls have done really well this time after Dave left. Catie was a little sad on Friday, but then my sister showed up on Friday night, and she was pretty well distracted after that. Lucy has asked for, “Daddy? Daddy?” a couple of times, but I just say, “Nope, Daddy’s not here right now,” and she accepts that and moves on without freaking out.

Like last time, I told Catie that on Sunday, we could do something fun, and she could choose what our adventure would be. She picked the North Carolina History Museum. I swear I don’t know where this little nerd child of mine comes from, but I love her for it. The entire trip cost me the gas to get downtown and a whopping 51 cents so she could use one of those machines that flattens a penny and imprints it with a design (in this case, it was an airplane – the whole North Carolina “First in Flight” thing).

Oh these girls.

So, they’re doing really well. Which has been a huge relief.

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I broke up with The Guy last night. Via text message, because I am a coward when it comes to confrontations. There’s so much of the story that I don’t want to share, because only half of the story is mine, and I can’t speak for him.

I’ll say this: I spent years of my life trying to bend myself to make myself fit into the mold of what I thought the man I was with wanted me to be. (Not Dave’s fault, I take responsibility for that myself.) I realized that I was doing the same thing with him, just in a completely different way. And I can’t – no, I’m not willing to – live like that anymore.

It sucks, and I’m upset about it. At the same time, in the grand scheme of failed relationships of my life? I’m not sure if this one even registers on the Disaster Scale.

But that’s that. I’m thinking I’m going to take the holidays to focus on my girls and maybe a little more self-care (working out, meditating, whatever I need to do to feel more like “me” again), and then take it from there.

Onward we go, right?

visitation, again

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It feels like there’s been a lot going on lately that I haven’t blogged about. Not even intentionally, I just haven’t gotten around to it.

Like, for example, Dave’s been here for the past 10 days. He’s making a real effort to be around more for the girls, and I appreciate it. These past couple of visits have been completely calm and drama-free, which is a huge relief.

This trip was also the first time that he kept both kids overnight (usually he only keeps Catie because I’ve been so worried about Lucy and her high-maintenance ways). One of the nights that he kept both kids, I slept for 11 hours. It was freaking magical, let me tell you.

Of course, he left this morning and I’m worried about the fallout, especially for Catie. Yesterday when I went to pick her up from daycare, she saw me and immediately burst into tears. I told her that Daddy was going to come over that night (last night) to say goodbye before he left, and she cried harder and said that she wouldn’t tell him goodbye so he couldn’t leave. She said that she wanted to move to Seattle with him.

This was also the first time that Lucy really seemed to notice Dave’s presence (or lack thereof). A couple of times, Dave took only Catie with him and left Lucy with me, and Lucy would grab her jacket and run to the door. She’d stand there and cry when they left without her, while I tried to console her.

Basically? These kids are breaking my heart. This isn’t something I can fix for them, even though I wish like hell that I could.

He’ll be back at Christmas, which isn’t that far from now, but how do you explain that to a little kid who can’t really grasp things like days versus weeks?

My sister is coming to town this weekend, so that should be a good distraction.

I want them to have a relationship with their dad. And I think my job is basically to facilitate that and make these transitions as smooth as possible.

Sunday sister snuggles.

I just really want those happy faces back. Hopefully it won’t take too long until we’re back in our normal groove. And hopefully, as time goes on, each subsequent visit will require less and less readjustment time afterward. I can dream, right?