Mighty Little Mom

jmmagroup:

To that end, please REBLOG this if you want more JM-loving friends to follow you! There will be a whole lotta followin’ going on. :)

(via lifeislikeaboxofcrayons)

I have always been one of those moms who loves the summer as much as my kids and I am more bummed about their return to school than they are.  There are positives to it, certainly, but I really enjoy summer’s laid-back non-routine.  But here we are again.  I took my older son to his school earlier this week. I almost got teary remembering taking him up there when he was entering sixth grade, a little shorter, a little chubbier.  Now he’s the big, bad 8th grader, taller than me and needing a shave.  My younger one had his meet-the-teacher this afternoon.  So cute, really wanting a certain teacher, “You look at this list, mom, I can’t do it!”  (He got his choice.)

One thing that is very nice about this year though is the lack of a major commitment.  For the past two years I was solely responsible for my younger son’s school yearbook.  And that meant being at virtually every event whether my kid was involved or not to take photographs.  Plus all the work associated with selling it and putting it together.  I didn’t want ANY volunteer position but I took one.  At one time, I would have considered my new job “huge” but compared to yearbook, it will be a cake walk.  I’m doing my job and will FINALLY get my shit together and get in the substitute teacher pool.  I don’t plan on doing a whole lot above and beyond that.  It’s a relief.  I may feel up to more next year, but for now, I need a breather.

“In Repair” seems to be my theme song right now.  I’ve really been introspective lately and I’ve come to realize my issues are deeper than just my weight.  I’ve been, in effect, waiting on my weight.  The reality is that I can get this house in order right now.  I can start dressing better right now.  I can do things for myself and my family whether the weight ever comes off or not.  I’m getting things in order, I’m in repair.

So, I’m reading the book and making connections I haven’t made before.  There are things I knew, have always known.  And I think that’s why it’s easy to dismiss this work, telling yourself, yeah, yeah, old news.  And I can see how someone could say, OK, I know that stuff, just stop dieting?  OK, wait, I gained 100 pounds.  It’s taking all of these pieces, all of these things you know and putting them together and then it’s not dieting consciously.

So there’s the housework connection that I made.  And then I realized that my entire life is actually a huge disappointment to, well, at least to my mother.  At one time I would have said “my parents” but they divorced in December.  After 40 years of marriage.  Parents divorcing when you are an adult is pure torture.  They tell you things you should never hear.  And if you take sides, you alienate a parent, and if you try to stay neutral, as I did, you end up pissing them both off.  But my dad’s set of beliefs are, what, demolished?  I don’t know.  This man who supposedly cried when I moved in with my husband before we were married is now living with a new girlfriend.  I don’t know what he believes anymore.  But they both have expressed disappointment that I am a stay-at-home mom (yes, you read that right) and that I don’t take my boys to church.

So I am living this life that in all honesty, I love.  I don’t care what my parents think about my choices, clearly, and yet I’ve realized that deep down it does bother me to know that my own parents don’t think I’m good enough, just as I am.  It gnaws at me, I gnaw on food.

Yesterday, I realized that I had made a big error in some volunteer work I do at my son’s school.  I felt absolutely terrible about it.  And I found myself eating some cookies.  And I stopped and I realized, I still feel like shit and I ate unnecessary cookies.  And I had that aha! moment.  Yes, I felt better for a moment but then it was gone.

I am not in the moment.  I am beating myself up for things that have already happened.  I have much work to do but I feel good about it.  I feel a calm.  That’s decidedly different from how I feel when I start another diet.  I realized today, too that I don’t think my life will be better when I am thin.  I think it will be better when I no longer worry about this anymore.  That’s the place I want to get to.  Losing some pounds will be a bonus, but I just want to stop fighting with food.

I know, she’s done a bajillion shows on various weight loss programs and I have probably watched them all.  I’m watching one now that’s actually about NOT dieting and figuring out WHY you eat and I was surprised to find myself sobbing.  Because Oprah’s reason is my reason and she stated it so well, and so articulately that I just began to cry.  As a child, I was severely punished if I did something wrong.  My mother used a belt or a “switch.”  As I got older, she’d ground me from whatever would bother me the most to lose.  But the thing that got me, that got Oprah, that still gets us, is that we were not allowed to express any reaction to that punishment.  That wounded more than the punishment. 

Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.

Stop pouting.

Don’t look at me like that.

As Oprah said, don’t remind me that I just beat the crap out of you (whether physically or emotionally.)

I am not a domestic goddess but my mother was a neat freak.  A light bulb went off.  I am not doing what I am “supposed” to so I feel terrible about it and then I eat to soothe myself because I am not allowed to be sad/disappointed/angry.  Gotta cover those up.

A lot to think about…

We went to the Texas Rangers game the other night and as we left I saw a woman with a chin that hung down to her navel.  OK, perhaps I exaggerate slightly but it worried me.  I am 40.  I am TERRIFIED of aging.  And yet, here I sit on my fat ass when I have plenty of good years left.  Wasting them.  Need exercise, need clean food, don’t need these tortilla chips.