My Parenting Perspective

When I'm at the park, there always is a parent who runs to my daughter's aid as I casually walk over to her when she gets 'stuck' in a position I KNOW she can get out of. It's hard to encourage self-reliance when other people we don't know want to help. I tell them that she is fine and she can get out of it herself, but they still insist on helping or offering consolation by rubbing her back or by saying that she is alright if she does fall from 1 foot. She's fine, please leave her alone.

Now I understand that I may be alone in this thinking, but I know my rough and tumble tomboy-girly-girl of a daughter who enjoys taking risks. If she is in any real danger, I come running, but other times, she just wants attention from others and I walk over to her to encourage her to find her own solutions or talk her through the problem, asking what she needs to do about it. She eventually figures out a some kind of solution through trial and error. How can children solve their own problems when parents are CONSTANTLY coming to the rescue? I believe if they are going to get hurt (even if that means a trip to the hospital for stitches or a cast) as a result of their actions, then maybe they may learn a thing or two about not doing it in the future.

My daughter, being six years old, is learning to make her own lunch on the stove. She is learning cut her own food with a steak knife and prepare simple basic foods for herself. She can make her own breakfast in the morning without any assistance. She is growing into a responsible, confident, respectful, self-reliant young lady. As much as I don't like the speed of her growing up, I know I can't stop it. Why should I tell her that she is unable to do something well within her reach?

 Just a thought.

To Build A(n amateur) Bodybuilder

As a little background, my husband (whom I call Huzzy), is an aspiring bodybuilder. This is a new-found passion stemming from years of obesity and fear of not being around for our daughter when she grows older (one that is not out of hypochondria, but out of a medical scare). To say this is a hobby is like dragging it in the dirt. He has lost about 125 lbs in the course of the 9 years we have been together, some of it in a not safe way, but most in the last year through proper diet and training. This lifestyle has steadied his moods (especially through the winter), gained a lot of self-confidence and has boosted his already inflated ego. ;) I am proud to say he is mine to stay, especially through all the mud we dragged our relationship through.

Now on to what I originally started this for:

This is a picture taken today from our monthly shopping trip. What you see here is 15 dozen eggs, 30 pounds of boneless, skinless chicken breast, and a huge 15 pound chunk of bottom round beef that we plan on breaking down into steaks, roast, and burger. You want to know what the sad part about this is? The eggs will probably be gone in the next 2 weeks or so with the chicken disappearing sometime soon. I've already cooked up 3 lbs of it tonight. Five dozen plus 2 eggs more have already been separated before this trip and are sitting in a pitcher in the fridge. What this picture doesn't show is the 20 lbs of frozen veggies, some fresh fruit, 4 bags of spinach, 2 large jars of peanut butter, cottage cheese, oats, grits, rice, and quinoa that will also be eaten before the month is through.

Now you may think this is a lot of food for one person to eat, and admittedly, our daughter and I will be eating about 2 dozen of the eggs, some of this chicken and beef, as well as the fruit and other things, but for the most part, this is his food. Understand this, he eats EVERY two and a half hours and if he is late, he becomes a grumpy, hardheaded person to be around. That is why he repeats the 5 P's: Proper Preparation Prevents Poor Performance. It takes us (as in me, and he'll admit this) hours at times to prep for at minimum of 2 days worth of food and filter 4 gallons of water... and this is during the cut stage, which he is in right now. When he was bulking, his meals would consist of a serving of each of a sweet potato, broccoli, chicken, and rice (or some other starch).

He also trains in one way or another 6 days a week, either doing cardio, lifting, or both. This takes some time away from family at times, but I feel it is worth it for him to feel good about himself, no matter what the beating does to his body. Here is an example:

This is the consequence of doing proper form with deadlifts. Bruising on the shins that never seem to go away. It doesn't hurt him, but it isn't pretty to see.

With all this happening, he is graduating with his Bachelor's with an emphasis on public policy this Friday afternoon. His aspirations are high when reaching for the sword of the Natural IFBB competitions. He is a natural bodybuilder and has been eating clean (no junk food, smoking, chewing, or alcohol) for a year now. He is trying to raise funds to become a certified personal trainer so that he may help others who come from his background (plus he can always be in the gym).

He is a dedicated daddy, a supportive husband and friend, and a person who can't be held down. I love him to death and I am glad we went through hell to get to where we are today.

First Post/ Mental Torture

So, here is my first post. This has been on my mind all day and I thought I would share. It may not seem like much, but it is always on my mind. So here it goes.

I don't know why my mind does this, but my dreams are torturous. Yesterday I sat daydreaming about what it would be like to be sitting at my sewing machine making clothes and diapers for the baby I was carrying. Then last night I dreamt I was in labor, but didn't want to go to the hospital because I thought it was too early. I hate being jealous of other people who have newborn babies or are pregnant and I don't know how to control it at times. I have been brought to tears talking about it when my guard is let down, but I try to always keep it up. Every month when Aunt Flo comes to call, no matter how much I tell myself that there isn't anything there, a little piece of me is chipped away. I think I've come to terms about how it may never happen, but my mind never seems to listen.

Rereading this, I've noticed I can't even say what my torture is, but I don't think it needs to be said. I know some day will come, but some days it's too hard of a wait. For now, I know that I need to focus on something else. Maybe that's why I have so many hobbies, to keep my mind off the bad. But for now, this day has ended and I'm almost afraid to sleep but sleep must come and tomorrow is a new day.

Peaceful rest to all.