Where is the time going?
This morning, I spent a little time just observing what is different here while I (finally) ate some breakfast and drank my coffee.
Rin can now go potty all by herself (and only needs help with the wiping after poo).
Amelia is crawling.
And sitting up by herself.
And trying her best to climb up to a standing position.
And starting to try eating baby food.
Didn't I just birth them?
Wasn't Rin just learning how to say various words instead of speaking in complete, if not exactly grammatically sound, sentences?
Wasn't I just fretting over how long potty training would take?
Wasn't I just having to trim the back of her hair to keep her from having a mullet?
Now, she's starting to sound like her father and I.
She tries to negotiate what foods she wants to eat.
She tries to "work" like we do on the computer.
She "drinks tea and coffee" like Mommy (she does NOT actually drink tea or coffee).
She wants to clean and cook and take care of her babies.
Didn't I just find out I was healed up from giving birth?
Wasn't I just crying in the middle of the night because I just wanted to get some sleep when Amelia was awake?
Wasn't she just incapable of holding her own head up?
Some days, I want time to slow down.
Let me hold my babies a little longer, give them just a few more snuggles.
Let me hug them and kiss away their boo-boos.
Let me sit them in my lap and comb and brush their hair.
Let me hold them on my chest while they sleep.
This is not all the time. In the big picture, I want them to be fully capable humans that can wipe their own butts and get their own food and groom their own bodies. I want to have fully understandable conversations with them about all the serious and fun things of life.
But sometimes, I just want things to slow down so I can hold my babies for just a little while longer.
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Wednesday, December 13, 2017
Friday, December 1, 2017
Post Baby Beauty
Oh man, you guys. This topic is weighing heavily on my heart. I need to preface this by saying: I am NOT fishing for compliments or self-esteem boosters. I am simply sharing what has been on my mind.
I think back to my body before I had my babies:
I had energy.
I had life.
I didn’t look tired all the time.
My hair was manageable and either cut in a fun way or a feminine way, but almost always felt cute.
I wore natural makeup, or no makeup at all.
My face struggled with acne, but was manageable.
My tummy had a little extra layer of fluff, but I was healthy and in shape.
My clothes fit nicely for the most part.
I smiled a lot....
....My boobs were perky, y’all.
Fast forward to now.
I almost never have energy, and while I get more sleep than I generally did pre-babies, I am still exhausted.
I don’t know if I still have life shining from my eyes or, if I do, if it can be seen past the smudged glasses and the dark circles.
My hair is falling out and lays flat on my scalp. It looks neither fun nor feminine. The cut reminds me of a 90s grunge dude. That’s part of the reason it’s always pulled into a messy pony tail or bun (the other reason is to keep it out of my face or keep my kids from yanking on it).
I don’t have time or energy to put on makeup. The makeup I have is old and I don’t think it looks good on me.
My face will clear up for a week, then breakout like a teenager’s with painful bumps.
My tummy is nowhere near flat and I have more fluff than I’d like. It’s hard to sit and stand up straight because my core muscles are shot. I have stretch marks covering me from just above the belly button down and wrapping around my hips.
Most of my clothes look a little awkward on me. Either they fit in the boobs and show off my extra fluff or they look frumpy.
I probably look angry or upset a lot (I don’t mean to...)
And I have grandma boobs. (Andrew assures me that they’re mom boobs. But when you have to wear nursing bras, which have NO support, it’s hard to feel good about your boobs. Sagging boobs look like grandma boobs to me.)
Based on beauty standards of today, I am unattractive. This is kind of a hard pill to swallow. Like, if I’m out and about without my kids, would someone look at me and just see “mom”?
WHAT’S SO UGLY ABOUT BEING A MOTHER?!
Seriously. Let’s look at all the things I see about my body in a different light:
I’m carrying a baby and chasing a toddler around all day. Of course I’m exhausted. Of course I feel unfulfilled in certain areas. But I gave these kids life and I can either let them drain me of it or I can try to let them remind me of my own youth.
There is bound to be some sort of life behind these tired eyes. When in Wal-Mart, I look around and I see Bergens (go watch Trolls if you don’t understand that). And I refuse to be a Bergen.
Yeah, my hair looks like crap. But at least I have hair. And my oldest enjoys playing with it, while the youngest enjoys getting her fingers tangled in it and pulling it.
So my makeup is old and doesn’t look great? I have a husband who has always told me I look better without makeup. Getting comfortable in my own skin should include getting comfortable with my own face. Besides, makeup breaks my face out.
My face has flare ups? For the first time in my life, my face actually clears up!
My tummy isn’t flat. I carried two babies to term, one of which was a battle to carry that long. Those muscles took 18 months of organ rearranging and stretching to accommodate a human being. I’m not even 6 months postpartum. And it isn’t like women get physical therapy to regain core strength after pregnancy (though, honestly, maybe that should be routine medical care.....)
As for stretch marks, they’re my battle scars. I’ve always thought scars add to the story of who someone is.
My clothes don’t fit the best in the world. But my body has been rapidly changing over the last 4 years, so that’s okay. Sometimes, I just need to wear baggy shirts, anyways.
I look upset a lot. It's usually due to frustration or concern for my child's safety. Or it's because people in public are generally terrible (seriously, is it THAT difficult to be aware and/or courteous?!) BUT I also smile and laugh a lot. And make really stupid faces (ask my daughter or my husband). And dance in the car like a dork.
As for my boobs, I'm proud of them. They nursed my first child for a year. I'm six months into nursing my second child. I can't justify $75 for a supportive nursing bra. So my boobs are just gonna have to look like grandma boobs while also being amazing at keeping a human being alive and healthily fed.
ALL OF THIS to say....I really want to say "Screw you, societal beauty standards!"
I can't, though. While I intellectually know that my body is beautiful in it's strength, I do miss feeling youthfully beautiful. I miss feeling feminine. I miss feeling comfortable in my own skin.
My biggest help with getting through this? My husband still finds me attractive and reminds me often that this is just a phase of life. My toddler still grabs my head and kisses my cheeks and wants snuggles. My baby looks at me like I am the most wonderful and beautiful person in the entire world.
I will never look like I did before I had children. I don't want to. I just look forward to being comfortable in my own skin again (and maybe being a little less fluffy).
I think back to my body before I had my babies:
I had energy.
I had life.
I didn’t look tired all the time.
My hair was manageable and either cut in a fun way or a feminine way, but almost always felt cute.
I wore natural makeup, or no makeup at all.
My face struggled with acne, but was manageable.
My tummy had a little extra layer of fluff, but I was healthy and in shape.
My clothes fit nicely for the most part.
I smiled a lot....
....My boobs were perky, y’all.
Fast forward to now.
I almost never have energy, and while I get more sleep than I generally did pre-babies, I am still exhausted.
I don’t know if I still have life shining from my eyes or, if I do, if it can be seen past the smudged glasses and the dark circles.
My hair is falling out and lays flat on my scalp. It looks neither fun nor feminine. The cut reminds me of a 90s grunge dude. That’s part of the reason it’s always pulled into a messy pony tail or bun (the other reason is to keep it out of my face or keep my kids from yanking on it).
I don’t have time or energy to put on makeup. The makeup I have is old and I don’t think it looks good on me.
My face will clear up for a week, then breakout like a teenager’s with painful bumps.
My tummy is nowhere near flat and I have more fluff than I’d like. It’s hard to sit and stand up straight because my core muscles are shot. I have stretch marks covering me from just above the belly button down and wrapping around my hips.
Most of my clothes look a little awkward on me. Either they fit in the boobs and show off my extra fluff or they look frumpy.
I probably look angry or upset a lot (I don’t mean to...)
And I have grandma boobs. (Andrew assures me that they’re mom boobs. But when you have to wear nursing bras, which have NO support, it’s hard to feel good about your boobs. Sagging boobs look like grandma boobs to me.)
Based on beauty standards of today, I am unattractive. This is kind of a hard pill to swallow. Like, if I’m out and about without my kids, would someone look at me and just see “mom”?
WHAT’S SO UGLY ABOUT BEING A MOTHER?!
Seriously. Let’s look at all the things I see about my body in a different light:
I’m carrying a baby and chasing a toddler around all day. Of course I’m exhausted. Of course I feel unfulfilled in certain areas. But I gave these kids life and I can either let them drain me of it or I can try to let them remind me of my own youth.
There is bound to be some sort of life behind these tired eyes. When in Wal-Mart, I look around and I see Bergens (go watch Trolls if you don’t understand that). And I refuse to be a Bergen.
Yeah, my hair looks like crap. But at least I have hair. And my oldest enjoys playing with it, while the youngest enjoys getting her fingers tangled in it and pulling it.
So my makeup is old and doesn’t look great? I have a husband who has always told me I look better without makeup. Getting comfortable in my own skin should include getting comfortable with my own face. Besides, makeup breaks my face out.
My face has flare ups? For the first time in my life, my face actually clears up!
My tummy isn’t flat. I carried two babies to term, one of which was a battle to carry that long. Those muscles took 18 months of organ rearranging and stretching to accommodate a human being. I’m not even 6 months postpartum. And it isn’t like women get physical therapy to regain core strength after pregnancy (though, honestly, maybe that should be routine medical care.....)
As for stretch marks, they’re my battle scars. I’ve always thought scars add to the story of who someone is.
My clothes don’t fit the best in the world. But my body has been rapidly changing over the last 4 years, so that’s okay. Sometimes, I just need to wear baggy shirts, anyways.
I look upset a lot. It's usually due to frustration or concern for my child's safety. Or it's because people in public are generally terrible (seriously, is it THAT difficult to be aware and/or courteous?!) BUT I also smile and laugh a lot. And make really stupid faces (ask my daughter or my husband). And dance in the car like a dork.
As for my boobs, I'm proud of them. They nursed my first child for a year. I'm six months into nursing my second child. I can't justify $75 for a supportive nursing bra. So my boobs are just gonna have to look like grandma boobs while also being amazing at keeping a human being alive and healthily fed.
ALL OF THIS to say....I really want to say "Screw you, societal beauty standards!"
I can't, though. While I intellectually know that my body is beautiful in it's strength, I do miss feeling youthfully beautiful. I miss feeling feminine. I miss feeling comfortable in my own skin.
My biggest help with getting through this? My husband still finds me attractive and reminds me often that this is just a phase of life. My toddler still grabs my head and kisses my cheeks and wants snuggles. My baby looks at me like I am the most wonderful and beautiful person in the entire world.
I will never look like I did before I had children. I don't want to. I just look forward to being comfortable in my own skin again (and maybe being a little less fluffy).
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