Category Archives: Confessions

Skinny bitch

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Lately I’ve been a bit cranky, and a few days ago it seemed to reach a highpoint……

I was chauffeuring the little ones home from Pre-school and Nursery. I was grunting at my oldest for suggesting I changed the radio-station “well maybe your mother would like to listen to this song!?!” (some never heard before french ballad). I was yelling profanities my children should neither hear nor ever repeat at the traffic, and I answered my husband’s phone call (bluetooth – we ride safe) with a “WHAT?!?” in a hissing tone similar to the voice of that little animated guy in The Lord of the Rings who says “precious”. I’m not usually like that, and for a moment I worried that I was showing signs of a mood-disorder! But what I needed to boost my spirits wasn’t Prozac – it was cake!

Let me clarify:

I have been dieting!

Thank the lord a diet that allows caffeine, because without coffee, the slurs I yelled at the traffic would have turned into full-on road rage complete with yelling like the above mentioned hobbit-creature and biting people’s ears off like some female Mike Tyson!

All in all it has been a sensible diet, with the simple aim of losing those last post-pregnancy pounds. It’s not one of those extreme only-eat-pineapple-for-a-week-things, but I have been HUNGRY!! I’m Danish. I’m half pastry for crying out loud! And here I am trying to cut out carbs.

My husband came home from work on this day, and with very few words, let me know that I should go upstairs, lay down for twenty minutes, that we should leave the groceries for the next day and order take-out. When I came back downstairs there was a big order of fried take-out on the table. Crazy hobbit creature emerged again “WHAT IS THIS!!!! THIS ISN’T ON THE DIET!!!”. Without responding my loving husband simply pushed the plate towards me – his mannerism similar to that of someone pushing a steak towards a caged lion. After the first fried mozzarella stick my shoulders began to relax and move away from my ears, after the second my vision seemed less blurry and the room brighter and after the third my voice transformed from hobbit to angelic sweetness!

Then I had a realization! It hit me exactly under which circumstances the descriptive term “skinny bitch” must have derived! No wonder every skinny celebrity is known for being a diva or difficult to work with! These poor woman must be starving! Diva, could in other words be a synonym for low blood sugar! As another example I could point out that no-one ever says “voluptuous bitch”?! And have you ever heard Mr. and Mrs. Claus referred to as anything but Jolly? And they live on milk and cookies!

The question then lingers… do I want to be a “curvy delight” or a”skinny bitch”?! With my husband’s lovingly served fried cheese, I suppose he has made his choice clear.

 

diet

Dear future me – Are you nuts?!

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When you’re in your 30′s, babies seem to be popping out everywhere. Friends, Facebook-friends, moms at school, neighbors, coworkers, you name it and they seem to be having babies.

Anyone who reads my blog, or who knows me personally, knows that I am a crier. I tear up every time I hear baby-news. New life is beautiful and I just cant help myself! Nevertheless the other day I had a moment of tearing up that was concerning to me. I started tearing up as I received a text message from a friend of mine, who was at the hospital, having a labor-inducing drip put in. And it wasn’t simply the approaching arrival of her son that had me going, it was the actual labor! The ACTUAL labor! I had a very disturbing feeling of “labor-envy”. “LABOR-envy”!?! Who in their right mind has labor-envy!?!

I realized in that moment, that I’m not always in my right mind [insert funny comment from husband saying "I could have told you that!"]. My mind is entirely too easily effected by nonsense female emotions! I DO NOT wish to go through labor again, I DO NOT wish to go through pregnancy again, and I DO NOT wish to have more babies! Yet there I was, reminiscing about the excitement and emotions surrounding labor, and felt a little sad not to be experiencing that again……

This time the itch came and went quickly, but the whole thing made me uneasy. What if I begin to forget? – forget the pain, the aches and the sleeplessness?! What if I meet a perfectly smelling infant, on just the right/wrong day, and the itch grows into an actual desire?!

On the off-chance that this desire should occur, I have written myself a letter, and may it be kept for future records! I apologies in advance to anyone currently pregnant or planning another baby. I did not mean to make you depressed. I felt it necessary to remove any and all sugar-coating, so that my point gets through to myself!

Dear future me,

So, you’re considering having another baby? Where do I even begin with you?!? ARE YOU NUTS?! If you’re not clinically insane, then you must have bumped your head and caught amnesia!

First let me remind you what pregnancy was like. People might have said you were “glowing”, but behind that glow was: nausea, headaches, exhaustion, restless nights, stuffy sinuses, various implicit unattractive things happening south of the bellybutton, bloating, engorged sore breasts, and hormones – hormones!! Somehow your marriage survived hormonal-crazy-lady three times, but do you really think your marriage has another encounter with HER in it?!

And what comes after pregnancy? Labor! The most excruciating, painful experience of your life. Some call it beautiful – well perhaps after blood and fluids have been wiped clean from the baby he or she is beautiful, but the rest of the labor is anything but beautiful! There’s the stated fluids and blood, there’s cracking and dilating and….. I mean, for crying out loud, a small human is making its way through your pelvis! You have felt this, you have seen this, you know this. Try to remember!

Then there’s that newborn. Yes yes, I know you have heavenly babies, but they are still babies! They will keep you up at night, they will tire you out, husband will sleep as sound as ever, and you will be drained as you take care of the older children, while the infant is LITERALLY sucking the life out of you, through your sore, cracked nipples! All of this while your back and shoulders are in pain from attempting to feed and soothe the baby while sitting up in bed at three o’clock in the morning!

On a side note, I would like to remind you, that If this baby is being suggested by your husband, the main pull is the baby-making-process and not the baby itself! Need I remind you that by each pregnancy the foot rubs and the cold drinks served to you have been further and further apart! Just as you became increasingly less excited about the pregnancy  each time, so did he! Not to forget the ever so hormonal-crazy-lady, who he was NOT a fan of – come to think of it, neither was the flight attendant who couldn’t find you seats together, or the grocery store clerk who had trouble with the credit card machine!

So please future me, are we done with this nonsense already?!

Sincerely ~ yourself

pregnantme1

 

Is this supposed to be good for me?!

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We’ve all heard it, exercising is supposed to be good for us! It helps manage weight, it helps lower high blood pressure, it strengthens bones and joints and lowers the risk of osteoporosis – and those damn kegels will make us not pee our pants one day!

Sporadically throughout my life, I have been known to exercise. Often with an underlying reason, like trying to look good for a boy, or wanting to fit into a dress, but I’ve never been a big fitness person. Pregnancy did in no way change this! Some women will be jogging while 9-months pregnant or, like my sister-in-law, in a full yoga bridge-pose a few weeks before delivery – This would NOT be me! I wouldn’t say that I plop myself down on the couch with a box of chocolates for nine-months, but……. I did buy some prenatal exercise DVD’s, and I think I might have opened one of them. Does that count?

Anyways, I decided a few weeks ago, that it was time to get in shape!

I started out with a few Pilates classes, and it went really well! I could feel it, but to my big surprise, I was able to keep up. Best of all, there were a few “larger” men in the class huffing and puffing next to me, which made me feel really good about myself!

Feeling maybe a bit too good about myself, I signed up for something called Body Sculpt – who wouldn’t want to sculpt themselves a little right?! Well, first of all, contrary to the Pilates class, this one had mainly men in it. Secondly, there were dumbbells involved! I almost turned around on my heels when I saw those long things and the weights supposed to be added to them! But then I saw the instructor, who was a woman, and figured; okay, I can do this! Technically I could do it, but I most definitely shouldn’t have!

I very strategically placed myself in the way back of the room – even a little bit behind the rest of the crowd in the back, just to make sure nobody could see me. And off we were, with the first of one billion squats and lunges……

You know how they talk about pain, as being potentially good? This was not good pain! I should have probably listened to my body and stopped when the pain went from somewhat good pain to just plain pain. For whatever stupid reason though, I decided to keep going! The amount of weight you added to the dumbbell was up to you. I could leave this next part out, and try to sound cool, but that train already left. So I will just admit to it – I had zero wights on my bar. Yep, I just had the stick itself…. which to my defense is very heavy!

Already an hour after the class was over I was aching! My arms caved in as I was cutting up my daughters dinner! I thought it wasn’t supposed to hurt until the next day?! And ooohh it hurt then too! It hurt the next day – and the day after that, and the day after that…..

Attempting to manage the pain over these past days has been interesting. Certain styles of walking have shown effective. Walking downstairs requires something along the lines of Forest Gump in leg-braces, while holding on to the wall and railing, in an attempt to lift myself slightly as I gently lower my body onto the next step. Walking upstairs requires a whole different technique, more along the lines of how the middle-child walks when she has a big surprise in her diaper. Walking straight seems to be more of a hunched over pigeon-toed style. And lastly all types of sitting down or standing up, is your classic very old lady right after knee-surgery.

Arguments could be made, that if I went more often, it wouldn’t hurt so much! Or how the pain is testament to the fact that I really should go back! I also do appreciate the prospect of limiting the risk of osteoporosis, and not peeing my pants as I age! But with the amount of unattractive pain I’ve been in this week, I have my doubts?! At least I think I might need a few more Pilates classes before I attempt to sculpt anything again!

 

The Baby-Wearer

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Seeing the recent cover of Time Magazine I had an instant sensation in my stomach. You see, people might believe, that the kind of mother who makes other mothers feel inadequate is the skinny, always in-full make-up, high-heels-wearing, career and family juggling mother. For me this is not the case! Sure these mothers are annoying as all get out, but there’s a whole different breed out there: a breed who’s sole purpose in life (I believe) is to make me feel inadequate! I call them the baby-wearers!

In Time Magazine, they’ve given us a double whammy, with a baby-wearer, who also happens to be a skinny 26-year-old with perky breasts! Thank you Time Magazine – THANK YOU!

If you haven’t already come across a baby-wearer, then let me paint you a picture:
She feeds her children solely homemade organic baby food, from vegetables she has most likely sowed and reaped herself. She breastfeeds her child until he or she is in grade school, she will daily create a wide range of homemade crafts, she would never let her children watch TV (she probably wouldn’t even own one), she home-schools, she practices co-sleeping and she wears her babies in earthy homemade baby-slings.

Now, there’s nothing wrong with any of this per se, but how on earth am I supposed to live up to that!? I’m too busy being a mother!

Sure if I had twice as many hours in a day, and needed half the amount of sleep, I would milk my own goat and make homemade goats milk yogurt for my children! And I would never even think to turn on the TV, because I would have endless amounts of energy to play and do crafts.

In reality though, I’m purely a mortal. I simply try to live up to my own best, and most days, I actually think I do a pretty good job…..

I make sure my children eat healthy foods, but the baby food will most likely be the pre-made organic kind. Drawing, with perhaps a few stickers thrown in the mix, is as crafty as it gets around here – I honestly don’t even want to imagine the horror my kids could get out of paper-mache! I attempted to put my oldest daughter in a baby-sling when she was little, admittedly mostly to look all cool and earthy, but I was so awkward with it, and she kept sliding out, so I use a Baby Bjorn, even though it doesn’t look as cool! I play with my children, I read to my children, and I laugh with my children – but I will also turn on the TV at least once a day! I tuck my children in at night, in their own beds. We are all happy – and I am quite exhausted!

I think it is time for me to stop feeling like I have to live up to others – especially such annoying overachievers! I’m rebelling against myself and my feeling of inadequacy. It’s time to be proud of what I do do every day, instead of feeling inadequate for what I don’t do! It’s time to be happy with my unique me, mothering my unique children, in my unique way!

Now let’s see if I can keep up the momentum next time some baby-wearer tells me how she just filled the freezer with homemade gluten-free baby-food and finished her daily yoga routine, all whilst her two-year-old was nursing throughout a downward-dog pose! – Might I still have a  slight feeling of under achievement?

 

The Water Works

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Growing up,  my mother would cry at every single recital, school musical or graduation my siblings and I ever participated in, and I would roll my eyes at her every time!  

Walking into the gym at my daughter’s school, I saw the stage, all set up for the spring concert. There weren’t even any kids in the room, but i could feel the lump starting in my throat. This was a week after I had given birth to my youngest, which might explain why I was extra sensitive, but still! It was a half empty gym for crying out load (no pun intended)!

When I saw my daughter and her little friends take the stage, hand in hand, it was all over – let alone  when they started singing this little light of mine! My husband looked at me and noticed, that I was wearing my sunglasses. In a slightly schooling tone, he asked me, why I was wearing those inside – I lifted them, showing my red teary eyes, “because I’m crying, that’s why!!” ….. he put his arm around me, and said nothing further about the sunglasses.     

Now I would like to say, that this was all due to my hormonal changes, and that I am nothing like my mother. But the truth is, that no amount of hormones will change the fact, that I am a crier!

I cry when I’m sad, when I’m angry, when I’m overwhelmed, when I’m touched by something – pretty much anytime my emotions sway just slightly from the baseline. I cry watching TV or reading books. I cry every time I say goodbye to someone – which is quite the predicament, since I live half a world away from pretty much every person in my life. I cry in airports at the thought of others saying goodbye or being reunited. I cry when someone tells me they’re pregnant, and I cry never more, than after I had kids!

At the onset of that lump forming in my throat, I will attempt to talk myself out of crying. Reasoning with myself about how the situation in no way will be altered by the fact that I am crying. Crying won’t make things less touching, less sad or less scary. It will only result in puffy red eyes for the rest of the day – maybe even the next day, if the crying took place at night! I try to think of something else, or distract myself. As if thinking about furniture upholstery for example, will take away from the two people about to get married, or my daughter taking a bow at her first ever school performance!  
 
I have met woman who are beautiful criers. One single tear rolling down their cheeks as they gaze ahead. This does not run in my genetic pool, and my tears would never be perceived as endearing. I am an ugly crier! It is as if my face and I are having a fight. Each of us trying to pull the facial muscles in different directions! Not just a few muscles around the eyes either, but every single facial muscle and beyond, starting at those tendons at the front of my throat! My eyes turn into tiny little creases and my hands start waving uncontrollably in front of me! (come to think of it, I actually laugh in a similar unattractive manor!). 

Now there is absolutely nothing I can do to change the fact that I am a crier. And when I try to look prettier while crying, it only makes it worse – since the fight between me and my face intensifies! It is a circumstance that I will have to live with. And when my daughters begin to roll their eyes at me – which they undoubtedly will, I will simply cry even more, thinking about how I am my mothers daughter and they are mine!

Do I have too much snot on my shirt?!

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The other day, I caught a glimpse of myself in a window. Let me just tell you, it wasn’t pretty! This was the second day in a row of not showering, I had my greasy hair pulled back in an unflattering ponytail, and I was wearing sweatpants, flip flops and a t-shirt with unidentified stains all over it. I came to the astonishing realization, that I have let myself go!Lately the bar has been set rather low. Most things don’t fit post baby-number-three, and comfort has taken precedence over the overall look of things. Before leaving the house, I will ask, not whether I have any snot on me, but whether I have too much snot on me! And where it used to take a bit of cleavage for my husband to be all “yawsa”, it now only takes a pair of jeans and maybe a bit of mascara.

With all that being said, I don’t know why this vision of myself was such a surprise!

I guess I was deceiving myself thinking that the right bag and a pair of big shades, would take away from the overall look of old worn yoga pants!

I always used to think, that even as a mom, I would keep up with my fashion forward European self! Think Kate Hudson or Nicole Richie, where I would wear a great maxi-dress and a fashionable fedora hat on the one day, where I didn’t have time to shower.

I guess without the worry of paparazzi on every corner, the incentive is lacking. Do I really want to get up an hour earlier in the morning to dry my hair, or make it to the mall, so I can buy that maxi-dress? …. maybe I should try and get myself on one of those reality shows – “Real Housewives of Expat Husbands” – now there’s an idea! Then I would have to make an effort…. right?!

I have hope for myself though. Maybe things will change when the little one starts sleeping through the night, or when I don’t pick out shirts based on their nursing efficiency, or when I have an amazingly tight hot body (because this will happen, it will!…..because I have sooooo much time to make it to a gym…hmmmm….. THIS WILL HAPPEN!) Worst case, I will at one point have three teenage daughters, who will make sure to let me know when I’m dressing badly, and who will make sure that we make it to a mall!

Mother Google

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When my sister as a one-year-old, pulled a worm out of the lawn and swallowed it, my mother dusted her off, and gave her some water. Today’s mother would dust her off, and then rush to the laptop, where she would google “what happens if you eat a worm!?“.

This past week I have googled such things as; “dangers of eating flower pot dirt” and “How do you know if your baby farts too much?” (if you read “The Middle Child“, you will already know which child ate the dirt!)

Now, what good can really come from online information on eating dirt? It already happened, and if you spend enough time searching, you will undoubtedly find someone, somewhere in the realm of the internet, who will give you reason to be concerned. It’s like an enabling friend, who’s even crazier than yourself!

I don’t know how many Google searches I make in a day, but it’s a lot! It will often be little things like recipes, listings, map searches, opening hours at stores and so on. But I have to admit, that many searches revolve around such topics, as the above mentioned, farts and flower pot dirt. I simply can not help myself! I have to know what my crazy friend Google thinks of the matter!
 
When my husband says, there’s nothing to worry about, I will reply with a “but Google said”!  If the pediatrician tells me, there’s no need to be concerned, I will still find myself mid Google search. 

I believe that I might have a Google-addiction. I know that it’s bad for me, but I still can’t stop myself from hitting that search-button. I believe that I might need help!

My next Google search will be for “mothers-who-Google-too-much-anonymous”. 

It’s In The Bag!

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I have a confession to make – I spent an obscene amount of money on my diaper bag! (Well technically my husband did, but same difference – right?!)
In this economy, admitting to such a purchase, is slightly embarrassing, but let me just tell you; this bag makes me SO Happy!
This would be the “as-seen-on: brad Pitt, Jessica Alba, Nicole Richie etc. –diaper-bag. It smells like leather and it looks like a designer bag.
I don’t have a personal trainer, a stylist or a nutritionist, and I know I won’t ever look like a celebrity mom, but at least I can rock the same diaper bag! And oh how I rock it!  With a big bag like that and some cool shades, then who even notices the floppy post baby belly!
So I choose to reason my purchase with its psychological benefits. I might actually be a better mom simply because of this diaper bag! Come to think of it, I might actually become an even better mom, if I had some Gucci pumps. I’ll run that one by my husband next month……..

www.storksak.com