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Hell: A Thought on Mondays

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Hell: A Thought on Mondays

Juggling my day to day life is normally something I can do on autopilot. I am a fairly busy woman with a two year old who loves to test her limits. That being said, there are days that things just seem to be too much. This type of day occurred yesterday, which of course was a Monday.

It began with traffic. Not just any traffic, but Interstate 495 traffic. Any of you who have been to Massachusetts and driven on this cursed highway know my strife. Although it is not the worst highway, it is definitely one of them.

Two hours I sat in my car to travel the 39 miles to work. Normally, I can do this in 35 minutes without issue. Not yesterday, no it took much longer. I spent an hour and half of it traveling the last 19.7 miles. That’s an average of 13mph. Do you know what that does to a driver like me? Infuriates them, that’s what. I become obsessively territorial and never let anyone merge into my lane, it makes me hate everyone driving on the other side of the highway going 75mph with ease; oh and let’s not forget how it causes me to spew fire.

Yes, it was an awful start to my morning, which was only further soured by Dunkin Donuts getting my order wrong. Not even partially wrong, I mean seriously wrong. Like the type of wrong that has you scratching your head trying to figure how just how they could have possibly gotten it this wrong. Nope, not a good morning at all.

I breezed into my office with my attempt at hiding my scowl in hopes that I could retire to my cubicle and hide away until lunch and repair my mood. I would have effectively reached my happy level by noon. But oh the universe was against me this day, this awful, wretched Monday! Despite my obvious scowl and clear look of “leave me alone” I am at once bombarded with chaos. Not just normal work day chaos, but complete, and utter chaos. Nothing, it seems, had gone right that day for anyone.

“I need this… I need that… Do this… Do that… Did you forget… Did you forget to remind me…” and so on and so on.  Instead of breathing easy by noon, I was foaming at the mouth and nursing a severe headache.

I know what you’re thinking. Man that sounds like a bad day, but it can only get better from there. Shush. Don’t think. That optimism has no place in my bad Monday blog post! It did not get better, it got worse. Ten times worse! A hundred times even! I would say a thousand, but you get the point.

So what could possibly have happened to make it such an awful day? The electric company happened. Now normally, this would not upset me, but it could not have occurred at a worse time. At promptly twelve thirty, our power went out. My lunch was at 00:17 seconds into its 02:30 minute cooking time. Along with the power went the Air Conditioning. Did I mention it was wicked humid out? My office building jumped 10 degrees in about seven minutes. They are cheap as it is so the AC wasn’t even on a good level to begin with.

It never came back on. For two hours we were not allowed to leave. We had to wait and see. After all, the internet still worked and we all have laptops. It was the rule of thumb that once your laptop died, you could go home. Of course this meant everyone turned up their brightness and played the most energy consuming video they could find. Me? Nope. I could not go home. Remember how I said I was meeting with my doctor come Monday to discuss the whole overweight thing? Yeah, that was in the opposite direction of my home. I would have had to drive that 39 miles back home, just to walk in, give the fiancé and nugget (daughter) a kiss before jumping back in my car and driving 59.8 miles to my doctor’s office. I chose this specific doctor because how close they were to my work. Silly me why would I do such a thing?

So I sat there, in my dark little cubicle for another hour playing Tiny Tower on my phone – Awful game, but horridly addicting. The clock strikes three and I leap up and skip to the door and make my merry way to the doctors where I get totally amped up to lose weight and be healthy. Then she says with an irksome smile, “Great! We will get started after your laps and next appointment. My calendar is booked until November.”

Seriously? I have to wait until November to lose weight? This is where I envision myself throwing a massive hissy fit in my mind, meanwhile in reality I calmly smile and say “That sounds great! Thank you!”

What happens next? Well this horrid driver gets back behind the wheel and drives 1.2 miles before having to slam on her brakes. Guess what it was? I bet you won’t guess it. No, it wasn’t an animal. It was… wait for it…. TRAFFIC! More traffic! As if my day needed any more traffic! It then proceeded to take me another lovely two hours to get home. It was great. The only thing that kept me from spewing the foulest curses imaginable was the fact that the radio was playing great songs. Instead I opened the windows, and belted out the songs in my awful, tone-deaf voice. I am sure I made quite the sight, dancing to my music with my gigantic sun glasses in my little white corolla. Did I mention I am tone-deaf? Oh well, it gave them something to laugh at for two hours.

When at last my little corolla pulled into my garage and I entered my nice cool apartment, I felt myself cringing at what would greet me. I had horrible visions of my child running amuck like they usually do, with my poor fiancé running behind her with a look of exhaustion and panic. I debated on taking a walk before heading in, but I was starving. Instead, I opened the door hesitantly. I was greeted with a sparkling clean apartment, a reheated, but delicious dinner and a ice cold cherry coke zero. I kicked off my heels and dove in, famished since the power outage stole my chance at lunch. My fantastic fiancé even knew better than to ask me how my day was. Once I had successfully put on three pounds by inhaling my pasta, the fiancé and I curled up on the couch with Kayla. This time, it only took a few minutes to reach my happy level.

As we put Kayla to bed, after reading her an incredibly long bed time story, I promptly forgot about the woes of my day. Then I woke up late and remembered how much the universe hates me.

Weight: A Thought About Myself

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I want to thank Greta, The Coffee Addict for her inspirational blog “Thin people are miserable too”. You should check it out, she has great things to say.

I have a confession. I am overweight, and have been struggling with it for a few years. I know everyone says you should love yourself no matter what, but that doesn’t mean you can’t be honest with yourself and look in the mirror and say “I am unhealthy.” I love who I am, and I am glad of how I turned out. However I am not happy with my size. I want to lose weight not because I am vain and want to be gorgeous. As much as I would love to be gorgeous, it’s doesn’t really factor high on my lists lately. I already have a great guy hooked, overweight and all! I want to lose weight for an entirely different reason; Health.

When I was younger, I was in good shape. However, I was still larger than most of my family members. Despite the fact that I was healthy, being larger than my sister and cousins began to affect my confidence, and even my own comfort being around my family. There were times when I couldn’t help but look at them, and wish I could look like that. I think everyone in their life has had this experience. It is a pretty normal human reaction to looking at someone else and wanting what they have. This is jealous, vanity, envy, human nature, whatever you want to call it.

Sometimes, these feelings of not being able to compare to another overwhelm you, and you begin to forget all the things you do have. I was never by any means a skinny girl, but I was always very healthy and active. Of course like most high school girls I couldn’t stand the extra weight I had, but it didn’t really bother me too much. Still, I never looked in the mirror and thought “Wow, I am pretty.” I look back at those same photos, and I am now sane enough to know that I was very pretty, and damn I was in good shape. What the heck happened?

It was college that truly began my downfall. I began putting weight on at a fairly steady rate. A few pounds here, a few pounds there, it ended being a total of 25 by the end of my second year after High School. According to google, I was still in the healthy range so I thought “Hey, 170 isn’t so bad.” Well, that 170 continued to go up. A mixture of things helped it along in its process.

When I was twenty, I became very sick. That is another story entirely, but let’s just say it sucked and I was kept very inactive. Not fully bedridden, but close enough. My weight skyrocketed during this time frame. Once the bulk of the illness had passed, I looked at my weight and knew something needed to be done. I was no longer in that “acceptable” weight range and was now located in the dreaded “overweight” range. I started getting the random nutrition pamphlets thrown in to my stack of paperwork at the doctor’s office. I started getting the looks, you know the should-you-really-eat-that look. I hate that look. And do you know what the worst thing about that look is? Half the time it’s all in your head. You would not believe how uncomfortable I get eating in front of people because I feel like everyone is watching the fat girl eat. Man, am I cocky or what? Seriously, people have a lot better things to do than watch me eat. Even though I know this, going out to eat with friends, or even family is so nerve-wracking for me, sometimes I psych myself out to thinking I am just not hungry. It’s truly awful when I go to family BBQs and everyone is eating chips and dip, and I am having an anxiety attack because I really want a chip, but I don’t want the scrutiny.

Not to sound arrogant, or cocky, but I belong to a pretty good-looking family. My mother’s side are all thin, Irish and Irish Italian mixes who inherited all the best features of their heritage. It was very hard for me to look at family pictures, because I always stuck out. I was always the larger one. I began shying away from photos, feeling very uncomfortable when people would ask me to be in one. Why pose in another group photo where I will just take up half of it? So where does this leave me? Afraid to eat and participate in family functions. Kind of sucks doesn’t it? So once more, I stand determined before the mirror and say to my haughty reflection “I will change you, I will be healthy!” Then I go and Google food recipes. Ah sweet Google, such a useful little thing.

I am actually a somewhat healthy eater. I don’t really drink soda, I dislike fast food, I love veggies and will usually eat them as a snack. I don’t generally eat chips, or a ton of cookies. I don’t eat bacon, mainly because I find it gross, or any really fatty meats. All in all, my diet is mildly normal, but I also know it is not enough. I may not eat unhealthy, but I am not healthy either. This is when I realize something. I look at girls who are thin, and I can honestly say I do not want that. For me, I want to lose weight not because I want to fit into those super cute low-rise jeans, but because I want to get into hiking. I want to get back into horseback riding. I want to do this, I want to do that. I want to be active. I want to go outside in the morning and go for a jog. I don’t have a goal number that I want to be at, I have a goal in my ability. I want to be able to do things that I just can’t as I am now. (seriously, I tried pushing myself and bad things happened, read below!)

Even with my goals and my actions to correct my weight, it doesn’t really go down. It also does not go up, which is a good thing. I just seem to be caught in the middle, scratching my head trying to figure out what to do next. I have done the whole increasing my exercise thing; going to the gym, doing things at home, going for long walks during my lunch hour, and where did that get me? An extra 10lbs and a herniated disc in my lower lumbar. Fan-freaking-tastic. So what happens now? Rest, rest, and more rest… and a dash of physical therapy. And this is where I am now; Overweight, broken, getting married in 2 months with only a few lost pounds to show for my “New Year’s Resolution”; still afraid to eat in front of my family, and still dodging pictures that my family just love to take; oh and let’s not forget needing surgery to fix my back since my weight was counterproductive to the physical therapy. Sounds pretty awesome huh?

So how do I fix this? I am not sure, because many of my attempts have met with failure. What are my options? I don’t have many, but I am determined so I will keep trying. Starting Monday, I will be working closely with my doctor to help lose weight. Maybe having a medical professional urging me on instead of my reflection will give me the strength, and willpower I need to do this. We shall see.

What about you? Do you struggle with your health? Do you want to be able to do the things you love without the inhibiting factors, such as being over or underweight, getting in your way? I know I do.

Honor: A Thought about People

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Honor: A Thought about People

Honor, it is a word that has existed for as long as history.  What do you think of when you think of honor?  Do you think of medieval knights?  Soldiers?  Police officers?  Perhaps firemen?  I know we certainly don’t think of politicians.  According to the ever handy dictionary.com, honor means honesty, fairness, and integrity, to be held in high respect.  Honor is a word we use to describe people of greatness, people who held fast to their beliefs and acted with honesty, and integrity.  This could apply to a great many people you know, and I truly hope it does.

This weekend, a simple disagreement about another’s actions sparked a deep turmoil for me, and I began to question honor in today’s world.  I was suddenly thrust into deep thought about the ability to ask for help, deception, and pride.  It may seem a bit muddled, but I will do my best to explain.  My words may seem a bit controversial, because it truth they are.  Besides, it just wouldn’t be a Monday without a bit of controversy now would it?

To begin this explanation, I should tell you a little about where I am from.  I was born and raised in the suburbs of Boston, Massachusetts.  Massachusetts is considered one of the more expensive states overall to live in.  In fact some of you may have heard its nickname, Taxachusetts.  Especially with the recent economy, there are many that struggle to continue living here simply because the cost.  To help this struggle, the State offers programs to assist those in need.  Although there is much negativity towards the Welfare program, WIC, (Women, Infants, and Children) or the Food Stamps (SNAPS) program, I am a firm believer that they are necessary and wonderful programs.  I myself have had the need of WIC aid at one time.  People will do what they must to survive, and there is no shame in asking for help.  These programs were put in place to help struggling families, and there is nothing wrong in accepting it.

I have had many friends call upon these programs to help get back on their feet.  I have never once looked down upon them, or scorned them for it.  In fact, I never really gave it much thought.  That was until this weekend when a simple discussion brought about a sharp sense of anger.  There is a very big difference between needing these programs, and wanting them.

When I applied for financial aid this year, as I am returning to school in September to pursue writing,  I did not receive any.  Instead, the government has graciously allowed me to borrow the necessary funds.  I was prepared for this, as my family and I are in a good position financially.  It did not damper my spirits in the slightest.  I know that many people can receive aid, but I truly believe it should be granted to those that need it.  Although I would love to have it, I know I do not fit the bill.

What upset me so much this weekend was deception, that is to say people who lie to get benefits they may or may not deserve.  Those that live in the United States know that this is a hot topic.  Much of this hatred is aimed at those receiving unemployment without looking for a job, but that is not what this post is directed at.  This is directed at those that receive benefits, and lie about why they need them.  Take a person who receives assistance because they are deemed eligible.  That person receives a free education, usually to a school of their choice pending their merits, cash assistance, healthcare assistance, food assistance, even housing assistance.  To all, it seems like they are getting all the help they need to get back on their feet.  Except what they don’t tell the government is that they are working under the table making a good $500 to $600 plus a week.  It may not seem like much money, but that is a good amount over minimum wage, and that wage alone would disqualify them from most of the assistance they receive, pending the size of their family of course.  So imagine the frustration of those that go to their job, day in and day out, have 30% of their wages taken out in taxes, and receive less take home pay than the other person who is also receiving all the assistance, paid for by those very same tax dollars.  It is very discouraging.  Despite that, I can see why people abuse the system.  It is truly financially a better option.  It is not, however, an honorable option.

So I ask then, is it worth it?  Is it wrong, or is it right?  Anyone who claims that is right is deluded.  And yet history teaches us that just because something is not right, does not mean that people are not going to do it.  After all, if they can qualify for it, they will go ahead and take it.  This is where my thoughts on pride surfaced.  As stated before, there is nothing wrong with taking help when you need it.  Key word there is need.

When I first had my daughter, my fiancé and I struggled.  I was out of work due to the harsh pregnancy, and my fiancé was the only one brining in money.  We struggled to pay bills, and we decided we needed help.  Luckily we were able to join a wonderful program called WIC which helps families by supplying basic things such as fruits and vegetables, milk, and even formula to those who need it.  We joined WIC for a few months, but when we got back on our feet we decided we no longer needed it and stopped the program.  It had served its purpose and we moved on.  Now, we are in a great situation due to hard work, and a drive to do better for our family.  I went out, found a fantastic job and am now supporting my family to the best of my ability.  I am proud to say that.  I am also proud to say that I am doing it on my own.  I have no ill thoughts to those that need help because they are doing what they need to do for their families, and that is something to be just as proud of.

However, I would not be proud to deceive these programs, and cheat the system to get benefits you  are not entitled to.  It may not be ideal that these things are not available to everyone, but then if that were the case our taxes would skyrocket and then this post would be about that.  So to those people who are abusing the system to your own advantage, I ask a simple question.  Does it make you feel proud that you are able to get benefits you might not deserve?  If it does, well then all the power to you.  While you stand proudly over your pile of deception, I will stand proudly over my accomplishments.  And should the government catch you, which in all honesty is doubtful, then you might want to Google the definition of fraud.

Thoughts of a Working Mom

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Kayla, my two year old daughter who owns my heart

One of my good friends is a stay-at-home mom, one of the few that I know. Sometimes I look at her life and say, “man she is lucky!” Who wouldn’t want to stay at home with the kids and not have to go to work? To not have a boss, but be the boss?  Not only that, but I envy her ability to spend time with her children. I sometimes work long hours, and my commute one way is 45 minutes. I am gone usually from 7:30am until 6:00pm every day, and that is on a normal day. Now I shouldn’t complain too much because my job is cushy and I do have opportunities to work from home every now and then, but still. If I could, I would totally take not having a boss.

Sometimes I will admit that working so much makes me feel guilty. I feel like I am missing out on things that are meaningful. It was like when my daughter first called me mom, which just happened a few days ago. I had always been Mommy. It hit me like a truck, oh my gosh she’s growing up! It was a horrible, sickening feeling that left me near weepy. Where have I been? What have I been doing that I somehow missed this sudden growth? She is only two, not even two and a half yet and she called me mom. Given it was just one time, but that one time made my happy, albeit naive, bubble that she would always remain mommy’s little girl forever pop like a balloon.

This feeling then turned into a vicious, angry, jealous green monster towards my fiancé who gets to spend these precious moments with her. I may have momentarily let that jealousy get the best of me as I shot ill-concealed looks of fury in his general direction, a look so intense even his usually-broken-angry-female-radar was able to pick it up easily. He spent the next 30 minutes keeping as far away from me as he pondered what he could have possibly forgotten to raise my ire. If I hadn’t been so emotionally distraught, I probably would have laughed.

Once again, my thoughts go back to my friend who stays at home with her two daughters, teaching them about the world. The image that blooms into my mind is like some glorified suburbia show from our parents era where everyone got along; images of me cooking dinner with my perfectly behaved daughter, or even the two of us sitting outside in the sun counting the clouds. I swear it was like a slideshow of those T.V. commercials of the perfect families where a child spills something, and mom runs over with a handy paper towel that soaks it all up in one swoop. That last image was the one that broke the angry staring contest with my fiancé. With that last image, I remembered something very important. Those T.V. commercials, those images of how perfect life would be as a stay-at-home-mom are fake.

Now before you get all angry, please note I am not saying that being a stay-at-home-mom is not perfect, because it could be for someone. Many many people enjoy being a stay at home parent, and I truly applaud them for that. It is nowhere near as easy as it looks, and anyone who chooses to do it earns an awesome sticker in my book. I personally know that I could not do it, at least I wouldn’t choose to.

Some of you may think that makes me a bad parent, choosing to work instead of staying home with my daughter. Be that as it may, it is true. I am the type of person that is always striving for more. Not necessarily in others, but in myself. I thrive on setting goals, and completing them to the best of my ability. I take immense pride in my work and in my achievements that I actually begin feeling very uneasy when I am not at work. In fact, I had such an awful pregnancy, I was on bed rest for the latter end of it. During that time, and for four months after she was born I was out of work. I went crazy. I felt so down about myself, and feeling that I wasn’t contributing to our family that it actually made me a little depressed. It was not that I was unhappy to be with my daughter, for I loved every moment of It, and yes that includes the midnight feedings. However I am the type of person that needs to work. I need to be doing something.

Would I lower my hours? Definitely, however that is not exactly an option with my current profession and with the fiancé out of work the financial responsibility falls to me. I would love to take a part time role, or better yet a work from home role, but those jobs are few and far in between.

Even now as my work picks up and my schedule becomes hectic, I know that I like my job, I like my life, and I like what I am doing with it. Just because I am not there as much as a stay-at-home-parent does not make me any less of a parent as I sometimes feel. I am supporting my family, and giving them a wonderful life. I may not know as many of the songs from toddler tunes as a stay-at-home-parent, but I will sing them with my daughter anyways. What makes you a good parent isn’t based on the number of hours, but based on the life you give them, emotionally especially. My daughter knows her mommy loves her, and knows her mommy will devote her time to her when she is home, and that’s what matters to me.

So to all you working parents out there, I applaud you.

Less is More: A Thought on Fashion

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Less is more, or is it?

Less is More: A Thought on Fashion

Yesterday, I spent the day at Nahant Beach, and let me tell you it was a beautiful day.  The beach is one of my favorites simply for the fact that it only costs $3.00 to park, and because it is never overly crowded.  Without the draw of a boardwalk, the numbers remain to a manageable level.  I stepped out, rocking my slimming black one-piece with a bit of confidence, despite being of larger stature.  As I relaxed in my euphoric glow of sunbathing, I noticed something that to me see

med a little startling.  If possible the tiny slips of material known as bikinis had shrunken.  Now I will admit I was an avid bikini clad young adult until I got a little thicker, but my bikinis and these bikinis are miles apart.

I have always been the more conservative type, generally staying away from showing too much midriff or too much cleavage.  Even before I had my daughter, I had always dressed in clothing that did not reveal too much.  It had nothing to do with my body type, because I had been thin in my younger years.  It was merely something I simply did.  I most certainly did not dress in tarps to cover my body, and I still managed to earn a few disapproving glances from the much older generation, yet I always stayed firmly behind that line marked conservative.  This was simply my choice, and I had no ill thoughts toward some of my more risqué friends.  However what I thought was risqué back then, is starting to look more conservative today.

Now, in fear of sounding like an old woman, I have to ask is less truly more?  I know when it comes to makeup, it is a common statement that less make up is better, but what about clothing?  I suppose I was always brought up on the quip “Leave a little to the imagination.”  That statement, it would seem, is a fading belief.  It is not that I have something against revealing clothing, in fact It does not faze me too much, to a point.  After that line, that point, I find it somewhat off-putting.

The reason for these thoughts came in the form of two teenage girls, probably in the mid years of high school.  They were wearing string bikinis, however these are not the string bikini’s I remember.  The bottoms seemed to be somewhere between a regular bikini cut, and a thong. The tiny triangle top seemed to cover a mere 10% of the breast, and that is estimating high; really high.

Am I aging myself by voicing these thoughts?  I know our grandparents always chastised us for our audacious fashion sense, but isn’t there a line at some point?  Twenty years from now will we all be walking around naked?

Perhaps my point seems a little moot considering this was at a beach.  Bathing suits have always been a little more revealing.  Still, I cannot help but wonder if there really is a line to be crossed.  I know we roll our eyes are our parents and grandparents tsking as we walk around without nylons, but is this something different?  Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying that we should all be walking around in below-the-knee skirts and shirts that go to the top of the collarbone, but the opposite extreme seems just as inappropriate, especially on young adults.  Or on kids for that matter! String bikinis for toddlers?  Really?  I won’t even get started on that topic.

Back to my original question; Is less truly more?  Is there a happy medium between too much and too little?  I know more conservative things are starting to come “back in fashion” however they don’t seem to be catching on in the younger crowd.  Does it make me old fashioned to not desire to see the curves of a teenager’s behind because her daisy dukes do not cover the entire cheek?   What do you think?

Stay at Home Moms vs. Stay at Home Dads

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Stay at home dad image from http://lorialexander.blogspot.com

Just a Simple Thought

Today is an age very different than that of our parents.  When my mother was my age the world was evolving.  Although women had equal rights, there was a definite bias towards them that limited their potential.  My mother did not make much money.  In fact, she worked multiple jobs to support my sister and I.  My father, well that is a story for another day.  Needless to say, when my mother was raising two children by herself, the odds were stacked against her.

Thankfully it is very different now.  I like to think I am a modern mom.  I have a two year old daughter who is my heart and soul, and a wonderful fiancé who I am lucky to have.  I am also a work horse.  I log long hours at the office, and bring home a sizeable paycheck to support my family.  At this moment, I am the sole income to my family, the figurative breadwinner if you will.  My fiancé is not currently working so he is at home minding our daughter until he finds work.  Even if he goes back to work his resume is not exactly high earning potential, and as such his work only affords him a little over minimum wage; which around here is a little over 2 gallons of milk per hour.

Being the supporter in our little trio of a family has raised a lot of brows; most of which from our families who do not take kindly to his position as caretaker.  Although I understand that our norm is different than others, I can’t help but wonder why is it received with such negativity.  Why would women view men staying at home to raise the children as something negative?  Was it not women who fought for equality?  Why is there a double standard?  If women are equal to men, and able to do the same work, shouldn’t the opposite be true as well?  What is wrong with a man being at home?  I suppose from a man’s prospective it is very different, as many of them still have that notion that they should be the providers.  I do not believe this is a correct notion, nor do I believe it is an incorrect one.  To each their own I say.

No matter which way it works, my family is being provided for.  Is that not that the main purpose?  I will admit if he were to find a good job I would be ecstatic, but not because I think he should be the main provider.  I simply think an extra income would be nice.  However, if he ends up not finding a job, I cannot help but think the option to be a stay at home dad is a good one.

So I thought to pose the question to you, readers of word press.  Why does my fiancé receive so much hostility at the admission that he is at home while I am at work?  What are your thoughts?  Why do you think society views stay at home moms as acceptable, but not stay at home dads?