Sunday, March 6, 2011

Body Image

I normally try to write about the humorous side of being the mother of two boys, but I want to take a moment to address something more serious, a little closer to my heart. Because, bloggers, friends and family, you are my source of information and advice. You are not afraid of telling it like it is, whether it's Mother of a Monster and Twins, Fine, How Are You, Letters for Lucas or being some of my favorite fathers out there (and Beta Dad, Mental Poo, My Blog Can Beat Up Your Blog, and others, I'm talking about you.)

I've always told myself I like surprises, but I don't. On both sides of the fence. If someone tells me they have a surprise for me, yeah, I'll act all nonchalant and such, but really...I want to know NOW. I also blame this trait for my procrastination on buying Christmas gifts, because the minute I buy the gifts, I can't WAIT for people to open them. Thus, the reason I HAD to know the sex of my first child the moment I was able. Sure, I'll tell you it was because we had just bought a new house and I needed to paint the nursery, but really, I just had to know. When I found out I was having a boy, I was happy. I've never been the girly-girl type and I hate pink. I hate to shop, I have no fashion sense, and it takes every fiber of my being not to bite my nails (which are never painted). My second pregnancy, Shawn was really hoping for a girl (he's the youngest of 6 boys - can you blame him?). When they announced that my little apple had a stem, I was silently relieved. Two boys! No princesses, no fashion issues I would screw up, no awkward silences when it came to petty cat-fights between other girls, no, "I'm too fat," discussions...or so I thought.

Before (if) you continue reading, I want you to know that my son is six. That's first grade, about the time you learn to read, girls are just "friends," you play with 'guys' and spit a lot when you make all the hitting noises, and you blush if the word "sex" is spoken on TV (and I consider that ahead of the game).

Without further adieu, here is my issue...Kaiden thinks he's fat. My SON thinks he's FAT. I thought I would have to deal with showing women respect, instill in him that opening doors for a woman (girl) was gallant (not how loud you could burp or fart) and I would deal with frogs, bugs, dirt and peeing everywhere but in the toilet, but fat? I'm not prepared. Yes, Kaiden has a belly, and yes, he is about three to four inches shorter than his peers, but he's growing. He's not gaining weight, and he's getting taller, so it will all even out. Does he eat more than he should? Maybe. But he's a growing boy. His brother is nearly underweight and eats anything and everything and still looks like he should be adopted for less than a dollar a day.

How do I know that this is an issue, besides the fact that he's told me he's fat? He won't wear a sweatshirt that doesn't have a zipper because if he has to pull it over his head, he's afraid his stomach will show when he takes it off. I wanted to get him involved in wrestling because his dad was a state champion, but when I asked him if he wanted to enroll, the first question was if he would have to take his shirt off, and then the answer was no. He refuses to be involved in sports that require anyone to touch him. When buying him school clothes one Fall, he checked under the dressing room stall to make sure there was no one who could see him and he made me double check that the door was locked before undressing.

As a mother, the first question is, "What did I do to make him think this way?" I think that I look inward because I have always had a weight issue myself, but really not a weight issue, but a body issue problem. Did I subconsciously make him feel that how much you weigh is a problem?

I always considered myself fat. I wasn't. My first year in college, I weighed 98 lbs. No kidding. If I only knew then what I know now. I was depressed. I thought I would assert my independence by moving 5 1/2 hours away from home, away from my boyfriend of 2+ years (a big deal at 18), and go to college where no one knew me. I wasn't miss popular in high school, but I got along with everyone. For some reason I thought that moving so far away would force me to not be one of those people who stayed in the same clique and wallowed in the glory days of high school. It backfired. I was lonely, I knew no one, I confined myself to my dorm room and didn't go out..not even to eat. Just to classes.

But this is not about me. I'm just giving you some background so that you know I was UBER aware of not wanting to pass those issues along. My husband is overweight. He hates it. But he hates losing his hair more. We don't say, 'fat,' at home, we stress eating 'healthy.' We try not to compare the boys on any level, good or bad. We believe they each have their own unique qualities which make them special in their own way.

When this subject first came up, I asked Kaiden if someone at school had said something. No. Was he teased? No.

I'm lost. He's well liked. Girls call him (yes, at six!), boys call him and the teacher says there is no problem at school. So if he isn't being teased and we don't say anything at home, where is this coming from? Do TV ads affect him? Does he see a 'perfect male' in commercials with a six pack and wonder why that isn't him?

I have assured him, he is wonderful the way he is. He's smart, cute, funny and has lots of friends. I've also tried to go a level further and try to explain (in a Dick and Jane sort of way) that he is constantly changing. I'm including a picture so you can offer your unbiased opinion.

So, I'm reaching out to all of you. Do you have any suggestions? How do I help him be more confident? Has anyone else experienced this? If so, how did you handle this? My boy is a good-looking kid with the biggest heart, he loves his family, school and a good knock-knock joke. Someday, he will have a female tell him he has beautiful eyes, a great smile, a wonderful sense of humor and he will treat them better than 90% of the other males they come in contact with.

The manual doesn't have anything on this. Any advice is appreciated. I don't want him to ever have anything hold him back from everything that he is capable of...especially body image.

Friday, March 4, 2011

Friday Funnies - Naked Grandma

As I have mentioned before, Shawn and I have been spending a LOT more time together lately, and I must say, we're discovering the lighter side. I've noticed more laughter and just plain outright silliness. Enter my world for just a moment. I'm checking my emails, sipping on some coffee when suddenly, Shawn yells, "Nekked Grandma!" I nearly shoot coffee out of my nose. Insider's joke. For those of you who are able, here's where that humor stems from:

For those of you following on Kindle or who just don't want to click on the video, here's the setup:

Family Feud, buzzer time.
Steve: Name something a burglar would not want to see when breaking into a house.
(Slamming of button)
Redneck #1: NEKKED GRANMAW! (You have to say neck-id)
Steve: Nekked-huh?! (Throws cue cards.)
Redneck #2: (shrugs shoulders) I don't wanna see that either. (completely straight face).
Steve: I know your right, m-kay, no one wants to see a nekked grandmom, but what are the chances (pause) of me breakin' and entering your house and runnin' into your naked grandma?

And so it began. Funniest thing? It's the second most popular answer on the board. (resident/occupant, not naked grandma).


I was driving my son to school, he's complaining that the Velcro on his shoes is worn out and doesn't keep his shoes on his feet. (Yes, he's in first grade and doesn't know how to tie his shoes yet. Dang Velcro-everything! And lazy mom without the patience to teach him.) The shoes are not even worn out yet. I used to wear my shoes until they were tattered. Anyway...I decide it's time he learns to tie. So in my mind, I'm thinking I can make a quick trip to Wal-Mart and get him some "trainer shoes." I'm talking about training to tie, not to run, here. So I ask him, "What size are your shoes?" Without a blink, he answers, "The same size as my feet." Thank you Captain Obvious.


Scene: My kitchen, it's after 10 pm. I'm trying to finish an article on graphic design, which, contrary to popular belief, actually takes some thought. Hubby volunteered to tuck the boys in over an hour ago. (Translation, "I lay next to the boys so I have an excuse to be asleep myself before 9:30). It worked for Kaiden, but here Kamrin is. Asking me for water, for a snack, for a blanket, to watch cartoons. Every. Single. Ten. Seconds. Exasperated, I snap, "Kamrin! Why aren't you in bed?!" His answer, "It's the way I roll mom."

Hopefully a quick smile to start your weekend!

Thursday, March 3, 2011

I Can't Drive 55

Today celebrates the third week of unemployment for me. I've discovered several things about myself and my surroundings that I may not have known had I not been forced allowed to slow down and take a hard look at things.

I really don't know what to do with myself when I am not going 100 mph on a daily basis. When trying to look at the bright side of things, I embraced the idea that I would have time to do all those little things I had wanted to do and had had no time for. I think I was done after two days. Of course, there is the constant cleaning, that at least seems to be never ending, but after inhaling cleaning product fumes (although that could provide some amusing highlights to my day) and massaging cracked cuticles, I've had my fill. Nothing like scrubbing a kitchen top to bottom and seeing it return to its former self within 15 minutes of the kids coming home from school.

Laundry has been reduced to about 1 or 2 loads a day, but dust reappears in a half hour.

I have come to terms with the Wii and exercising, but all the good that I do for myself in that 30-45 minutes is offset by the will and determination I must conger up to not eat out of boredom throughout the rest of the day.

I find myself wandering.. a LOT. I wander from room to room, not really knowing what I'm looking for, if anything. It's just hard to sit still.

I have enjoyed the fact that my husband and I can have lunch together and have a conversation without being interrupted. But I find that we tend to talk about the same things over and over. We get nosier about each phone call, text or appointment the other has, just grasping for some iota of information that would bloom into a full-blown discussion to fill the silence. Thanks, Charlie Sheen, for giving us a day's worth of back and forth of incredulous statements of disbelief about your narcissism. Problem is, when the silence hangs there for more than 3 minutes, my husband finds this the perfect opportunity to make weird faces at me, tell knock-knock jokes (not good ones), or imitate the kids' "mom, mom, mom" mantra in case I was missing it. It was cute for the first week, maybe, now I kind of dread him being home for more than an hour at a time. Good thing we will never be able to retire!

I've become addicted to my laptop. The first thing I do in the morning is check the online job offers and see if I have any emails from the companies I've sent my resume to. (Come on people! I'm a great addition! I promise!) Hitting 'refresh' over and over does not make emails magically appear. I devour all the blogs on my reading list and follow the webs of links to more and more reading material.

My dogs are genuinely concerned about my mental health. They must be, they follow right at my heals to ensure I do nothing to harm myself. If I lower my arms, one of the two furry heads are right there to offer ears to be scratched or to give a reassuring sniff. I can now translate head tilts, blank stares and restrained barks. If I suddenly change direction, I trip over them. Also Ripley applies the "snooze you lose" theory to his favorite spot on the couch, which is MY favorite spot on the couch.

Mornings are so carefree and laid back, my children will be rendered immobile when I must return to my Drill Sargent self once I must actually be somewhere by 8 am. The mommy they now love and joke with will once again return to her grumpy harried inner monster. (Although I am enjoying this new morning mom as well, and will try to drag her along for the duration).

I think I wouldn't consider this such a jail sentence if I weren't worried about the financial aspects. With gas getting more and more expensive every day, I'm nearly terrified to drive anywhere outside of my daily routine. I told Shawn to, "Stop guzzling the milk! The kids will need it for cereal. Don't you know how expensive that is? Drink water." He gives me the evil eye has he walks out of the room. What? No lame jokes now? Sheesh!

Well, better go check my email...again. Hey, hon...what are you doing? Nothing? Oh. Me? Oh, nothing.