Being a stay at home mom is hard. It’s thankless. It’s monotonous. There’s no such thing as sick days. It involves way, way too much poop.

Right now, being a mom seems like CAKE compared to my husband’s job. Especially since the kids are at a sleep-through-the-night, put-on-their-own-shoes, can-be-entertained-with-television-if-I-need-a-break stage and E’s job has none of that. He never gets to sleep through the night, no one at work seems to be able to tie their own shoes without asking for help and even when he’s home in front of the TV he’s thinking about all the stuff he has to do tomorrow (or in 20 minutes, if work calls him in AGAIN). He probably won’t get to go on vacation with us at all this summer and he probably won’t get any real time off until 2014. He doesn’t get lunch dates and trips to the playground and lazy days at home when he’s so tired he can’t keep his eyes open. So even though he gets paid in actual dollars and people (in theory) value his work and give him awards and tell him “great job”, I wouldn’t trade places with him for a second. Well, maybe for a second, but only because he really deserves a break. Although putting me in charge of a nuclear reactor for even a second would be a terrible, terrible mistake.

There have been plenty of times in the past 5 years where the scales went the other way and I was practically homicidal with rage over how I did ALL THE WORK and ALL THE CHILDCARE and ALL THE CLEANING and he was “busy” spending 8 hours rearranging office furniture with a 2 hour lunch thrown in the middle. He’s wasn’t slacking off, he just wasn’t at a very demanding command. But this job he does now? Makes up for every second of relaxation he ever had. If he worked for a civilian company they’d be paying him bazillions of dollars in overtime (or perhaps they’d be in jail for inhumane work conditions) but since it’s the military they can demand all of his time and give him nothing but a terrible headache and a family that missed him.

You know it’s bad when I consider a letter writing campaign to President Obama asking if maybe he can issue a presidential order giving E just ONE weekend off to visit us on vacation. And then I realized even if I was that crazy, E probably wouldn’t take the weekend off, since he’d be screwing over whoever had to fill in for him and might miss something important. He’s a good guy.

Anyways, here’s some photos of the kids and I doing fun stuff over the weekend. The plan is to keep them so busy they don’t notice Mommy is tired and Daddy is gone. Fire trucks are really good for that. So are surprise fairs at the high school with free bounce houses and balloon animals and rubber duckies. It was pretty awesome. Fun fact! It was in the parking lot for my OB’s office and right outside the building where both kids were born.

Tiny speck on the left is Caroline, running to check out the helicopter on her own. I figured a Safety Fair was probably a safe place to let her run around.

She LOVES people in costume.

I hope this is the very last time he is ever in an ambulance.

Learning about ice rescue techniques. Evan said “It’s like a pool noodle!” and the guy was like “Well…yeah. Basically. But we probably paid more.”

Apparently she also loves animatronic cars with voices.

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Last weekend E and I attended the Navy Submarine Force’s 113th Birthday Ball. It’s basically Navy Prom – formal pictures, fancy dresses, up-do’s, crappy hotel ballroom food, The Cupid Shuffle – except drinking is encouraged and you don’t have to beg your mom to let you stay out after curfew. (You do have to get someone to watch your kids though, which is why I stayed sober and we didn’t get a hotel room.) I haven’t been to any of the formal events since I was pregnant with Evan and I haven’t been to anything prom-like since, well, actual high school prom so when E announced we were going the first thing I thought was “I have to find a dress.”

More accurately, my first thing I thought was “Dammit, now I have to try to find a dress. This is going to SUCK.”

It did suck. It sucked super hard. It sucked worse than a shop-vac. It’s one thing to know in my head that I have been losing the battle with my weight for several months now. It is entirely another to stand in front of mirror after mirror in my underwear because I couldn’t get a gown over my hips or thighs or shoulders. It sucks to not fit into the size you wore six months ago or two years ago or ten years ago. The actual prom dresses were all comically small and built for younger bodies. The women’s formal dresses were much much more than I could afford AND either too small or incredibly unflattering. I’m fat, I’m not invisible. Or maybe I mostly am. I’m definitely invisible to the people who make formal dresses.

At one expensive store a very kind sales girl asked if she could help me and I explained I was looking for a formal dress but wasn’t having any luck. She responded “I’m sure we can find one! What size are you?” and I mumbled “I don’t know anymore. SIZE HUGE.” She tried to be helpful and found me several cocktail dresses she thought MIGHT work, but after the zipper on a $160 plain black “slimming” dress got stuck half way up I just sat on the stool and cried. I cried as quietly as I could with my hand clamped over my mouth until I slipped on my sunglasses and fled the store before the sales girl could ask me how things were going. I’ve never been so embarrassed.

I’ve been unhappy with my body since I was 17, so that’s not new. But I’m not used to feeling like I don’t physically fit into my own life.

The end of 2012 was not kind to my mental health. As silly as it sounds, the combination of the Sandy Hook shootings and Caroline’s second birthday in the same week was really, really overwhelming for me. I tried to eat my feelings and hoped if I allowed myself as many “special treats” as I wanted I would somehow fill the sadness I couldn’t shake. It’s an explanation I would have rolled my eyes at a few years ago, but it’s not an excuse. I knew what I was doing. I could feel myself doing it every time I stood and stared into my fridge and yet I still made choices that I’m paying for now. I’m paying for them when I can’t get dressed in the morning because none of my clothes fit. I’m paying for them at the gym when I can’t bring myself to use the treadmill because it faces the mirrors and I can’t stand to look at my reflection for that long. I’m paying for them when I take 300 photos of my kids and family on Easter and three of me, two of which I deleted. I’m paying for them when I make wiser choices now, go to the gym, track my calories, regulate every bite, but only manage to lose .4 pounds in a month.

I am uncomfortable with myself 24 hours a day, clothed, naked, walking, driving, running, cooking, smiling, shopping, being in public, hiding in a bathroom. I think about my size more than I think about anything else. It’s exhausting. I am not naturally thin. I don’t have a fast metabolism. If I do lose weight I will have to be vigilant every day for the rest of my life to make sure I don’t gain it back. But the alternative is I can feel like THIS for the rest of my life. It feels hopeless. There is a reason so many people who lose weight become weight loss bloggers or healthy living bloggers or diet recipe bloggers or people who talk about their low fat low carb high fat high protein all vegan all bacon miracle shake miracle pill lifestyle ALL THE TIME. I feel too old, too tired and too fat to reinvent myself as one of those people.

I did eventually buy a dress, in the plus size section at Macy’s. I cut the tags out the second I got home. It looked fine. I felt uncomfortable and heavy the whole night. I don’t fit.

I’ve been hesitant to even try to write this post, since I know people’s well meaning responses will be to a) cheer me up and b) offer advice but I don’t really need. I promise I understand how weight loss works. I know in my head that being fat shouldn’t stop me from living a happy life. It’s just a state of my body, not a reflection of my worth as a person. It’s just really really hard to put a healthy mindset into action when I’ve let my brain work that way for the last 20 years.  Thanks for listening, I just needed to get it out.

p.s. By chance, my friend Miranda is starting her weight loss journey this week, so you can direct encouragement and advice to her. (Warning: her post includes numbers.)

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Hey, remember how I used to knit stuff? Knitting is such a nice relaxing hobby unless you’re other hobby is blogging, because it’s impossible to blog and knit at the same time. Until science perfects the double arm transplant and I have two sets of hands, I’ve been letting my knitting needles gather dust so I could focus on the internet.

But right now I’m just not a very good blogger. I’ve been having a great time doing the Worst Preschool Shows on Television brackets and of course my adorable children make for good picture posts, but I haven’t been in much of a sharing mood. I’m just not feeling like my life is exciting or beautiful enough right now to warrant much sharing.

Part of that is because a lot of my energy has been going into my wife/mom/housekeeper jobs, all of which are demanding a lot more attention than usual. And for possibly the first time ever, I’m going to err on the side of under-sharing and NOT write down every single marriage-related complaint that’s been on my mind. Most of it is the exact same stuff every wife and mother complains about (under-valued, never get a break, blahdy blah blah blah) and at least 75% of that is work-based on E’s part, so it’s not even WORTH complaining about. The Navy doesn’t care if I have a sinus infection. Hell, my children REALLY don’t care if I have a sinus infection. It seems more like they’ve accepted a challenge to see who can make my ear drums burst first.

Also, approximately EVERYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD is pregnant right now and I am…not. I was hoping to I’d be announcing another (maybe) ginger baby any day now, but my uterus remains uninvaded. It’s not a tragedy. It’s not even a demi-crisis yet – trying for a few months unsuccessfully isn’t even close to secondary (tertiary?) infertility and I have no reason to complain. But it’s something that’s on my mind a lot and not something I want to write about extensively since I don’t want anyone think I am whining  so I’ve been keeping those thoughts offline.

Instead of blogging I’ve been knitting again. I finally finished a scarf I’ve had on my needles for a year. I’m 75% done with a super cute short sleeved sweater for Caroline. I have big plans to knit for some of those bazillionteen pregnant people’s babies. I also took a big leap and rented a very pricey lens for my camera this weekend, so I’ll be spending every single daylight hour getting the most of it. Not to mention Evan’s birthday is only 3 weeks away and I need to make a hundred feet of pennant banners and plan a menu.

It’s nice to work on something that isn’t my computer for a change. Being busy is an excellent use of time I was spending feeling sorry for myself.

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Today I am dropping both of my children off and escaping. Hopefully the firefighters will find nice homes for them.

Caroline starts baby school today, 2.5 hours, 2 days a week, for a grand total of 5 whole hours. Putting them both in school now instead of at some mythical point a few years down the road feels like I’m cheating a little bit. I fully admit to being someone who has said things like “Ugh, stop calling daycare SCHOOL. It’s not the same” in the past, which makes me both a pretty big jerk and a hypocrite. (That’s pretty much all you need to know about becoming a parent – you will do tons of things that make you a pretty big jerk and a hypocrite. Also, at some point you will make up a song about poop.) But now that I am the one sending my barely-two-year-old to a “childcare center” a few hours a week I take it all back. I am sure Caroline will come home speaking three languages and reading full chapter books by the end of the month. Or more likely she’ll cry the first day, show off her coloring-on-the-carpet skills the second, and sing the song I wrote about poop to her teachers.

This was the plan all along. I signed Evan up for THIS school as opposed to the one within walking distance specifically because they offered Tuesday-Thursday classes and a 2 year old program. The class has a very small staff-to-child ratio where I’m sure her singing and drawing talents will be appreciated and fawned over.  Two and a half hours is barely even enough time for her to notice I’m gone – I’m pretty sure I’ve taken showers almost that long while she played with empty diaper boxes in her room. She’s going to love school and I need to stop trying to convince myself that’s true because it IS true.

Not to mention I could really use regular, dependable, child-free hours for myself. I took both kids to run errands on Sunday and although they didn’t actually cause any physical damage it’s only a matter of time. We are a walking comedy act, seconds away from pulling the bottom can out of a can pyramid and having the whole thing crash down on top of us. I am doing everyone who works retail anywhere in South Eastern Connecticut a huge favor by putting Caroline in school. YOU’RE WELCOME, GUY WHO BUILDS CAN PYRAMIDS.

The very small voice that is stopping me from being totally sure says that Evan got 3 years home with me before I shipped him off to school. But he also only got 20 months as an only child while Caroline is well on her way to 3 full years as the baby.

In the end, I didn’t spend a ton of time making lists of pros and cons about this decision, which is probably why I’m spending so much time rationalizing it to myself now. It isn’t doing me any good, but it feels like a little hand-wringing is appropriate in this situation. My baby is going to school where she will learn to put her shoes on the right feet and drink from a real cup and boss everyone around. I mean boss MORE people around.

I’m pretty excited in a sweaty palms, clutching my phone in my hand all morning, three cups of coffee kind of way. I might have a bit of a breakdown, is what I’m saying. But at least I’ll be able to do it alone.

*Not actually free. But I’m sure I won’t miss that kidney I had to sell to pay tuition too much.

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*Giveaway is now closed!*

Back in December, I vowed that as soon as the crazy that was Caroline’s birthday/Christmas was over, I was going to buckle down and find ways to save money. And then, like magic, I got an email in my inbox asking if I’d be interested in reading and giving away a copy of a new book on how to live a happy, abundant life for less. Hey world, next week I want to buckle down and win the lottery! Unfortunately, life doesn’t work like that. Fortunately, I did get a copy of The Good Life for Less written by MomAdvice.com founder Amy Allen Clark.

The Good Life for Less ranges in advice from saving money at the grocery store to designing a cute and eye catching frame wall for your house. I really enjoyed the chapters on setting a cleaning schedule (something I’ve always struggled with) and on saving money during the holidays by remembering that the memories are more important than the stuff.  Obviously there were a lot of tips aimed at moms but none of it would be bad for anyone – everyone has a friend getting married or knows someone with a new baby and could use a creative gift idea.

In my opinion, the best part of the book is the plethora of recipes in the middle. I know that these days you can find recipes for almost anything on the internet but having them all together in one place is so nice. Amy covers everything from how to make your own Bisquick mix to what to do with frozen fish to Rainbow Cupcakes baked in mini mason jars (who doesn’t love things in jars?!) One of my favorite tips was to make your own mixes for things like pancakes, cookies and bread in large batches, then keep them in sealed and labeled bags in the pantry so you can whip up whatever you need quickly and at a fraction of the cost of buying all the mixes premade. She also inspired me to dig my bread maker out and give homemade bread another try (“try” is a good word for now, but I’m going to work on it).

I know from my description it sounds very common-sensey. Maybe some of it is. But reading it all written out in The Good Life for Less in a light, conversational style made following the smart and practical advice much easier. It’s not a hard read and you’re definitely going to want to stop at various points to go do that thing you just read right now! It’s a great idea! Do it quick! And then your good life is a little bit better.

The publisher sent me an extra copy of The Good Life for Less (an actual hard copy I’ve hidden from my children so it’s still in excellent shape) to give to one of my readers. If you’re interested, leave a comment on this post. You can tell me something you do to create a good life for less (or you can just tell me my hair looks pretty today – I’m not picky). I’ll pick a random winner next Friday!

You can read more about Amy Allen Clark and her book on her website here, including where and how to buy a hard copy or the e-book version. I was sent a free copy of the book but no other compensation was provided and all opinions are my own.

And the winner is…#16!

Congrats to manda, who was commenter #16! I’ll email you to get your address and put your book in the mail ASAP!

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