Announcement!!!

Through a comment on another Constance blog it was brought to my attention that you can't anonymously comment here. I'm going to change that. I may have had a reason for it initially, but now I can't remember what that was. So if anyone wanted to comment on my last post about politics, but didn't want to be identified, you can go back and do so now!

Politics

I have a difficult time talking about politics with people who disagree with me, because often they disagree so vehemently I just can't figure out a way to civilly carry on a conversation.

I am politically liberal. I think I'm conservative in how I live my life. . . as in I have old fashioned ideas about how children should dress and behave and about the way people treat each other and what kinds of things I generally feel are appropriate. So I live conservatively in many ways, but my vote veers pretty far to the left. I grew up in mostly very politically conservative environments and I am just not the type of person who will stand up and own the least popular opinion. For better or worse, I'm not very good at fighting that kind of fight.

Right now my husband works in an environment where most of his colleagues are older than he is, have worked with the company much longer than he has, and, frankly, make a lot more money than he does. They are, by and large, exceptionally conservative. He mentioned tonight that one of his colleagues, and I quote, "Worships George Bush."

Blink. Blink.

"George W. Bush?" I asked.

"Yes, George W. Bush."

Honestly, I cannot understand this. I know many intelligent people who I respect who are republicans, but I have a very, very, very difficult time understanding how someone can look around our country today and worship our current president. I know this is probably an oversimplification, but I looked at Sam and said, "He worships the man who sent us into a disastrous war and drove the country into financial ruin?"

Sam shrugged and said, "He makes a lot of money and his taxes are lower than they used to be."
And then I started to cry. Seriously. I want to cry now. I don't understand how someone can look around and not care more about all the people who are struggling. My concerns about the country extend beyond just the bottom line in this household.

I'm not an idiot, even if Obama gets elected, it isn't like this is going to be a different country overnight, but I don't see how we'll survive if things don't get headed in a better direction. Doesn't it seem to anyone else that we just can't go on like this?

Feeling Sickish

Right now Sam is driving around the city where he has his job interview later today. I'm having a difficult time thinking of anything else.

The good/bad news is that something like a job offer will likely happen in a matter of days.

I could probably throw up right now.

Wringing My Hands

On Monday Sam has a job interview in a city about two and a half hours from here. If he is offered the job, and the offer is good enough to accept, things will likely go very quickly. Which, understandably, has me freaking out a little bit.

It is unlikely that we would ever be forced to move for Sam's job, but if he wants to move up in his company, which he does, then we may very well have to go someplace else to do it. The company he works for is headquartered in our area and the internal competition is much more intense here than it is in other cities where his company has employees. In the past two years it has been very clear to me that we were just as likely to move as to live here the rest of our lives.

I'm not allowed to write about this yet on my "regular" blog because Sam is pretty connected to the community and he doesn't want people thinking we're moving if we aren't.

Moving is NEVER easy, especially for me, but moving with small children is even more difficult. We are excited about the potential in the city we might move to, I think it is a good family place, much like the city we live in now. Unfortunately our nearest family will be over an hour away if we move -- that is probably the scariest thing. I don't worry too much about my ability to make new friends, especially since we have a couple of connections who could help us meet people if we moved. But right now we live minutes from Sam's parents, who are wonderful and helpful. I totally won the in-law lottery, and they are the kind of people we can call in the middle of the night if we need a hand. I try not to take advantage of them, but I never worry about asking if we truly need their help with something. Moving to another city will be like living without a safety net, at least at first.

Of course I also have some wonderful friends here, who I will be very sad to leave. One in particular who is a nearly daily part of our lives.

I have more fretting to do, but we need to leave for an appointment. Which is just one of the really difficult things about moving -- needing to find new doctors (and schools, and stores,etc.)

Running Away

Once upon a time, I used to run.

I was never a competitive runner, but a friend in college helped take some of the mystery out of it and I started to love running.

It has been a very long time since I considered myself any kind of runner, probably close to ten years. And now I wish desperately that I never would have stopped.

It is easy to say that time is what is keeping me from picking up running again, but that wouldn't be the whole truth.

The whole truth is that I'm overweight and I almost can't bear the thought of running because I hate the idea of what I look like when I run.

I know that that kind of thinking isn't getting me anywhere fast. And I also realize another blog post about a woman hating her body is less than original. But it has really been weighing on my mind lately (ugh, no pun intended) and it is something I never talk about anymore. I'm very conscious of my daughter and I don't want to pass my insecurities on to her. I would never write about this on my regular blog either.

If I could safely run in the dark, in the middle of the night, so no one would see me, that would be ideal. I feel like I have a fit person inside of me still, I haven't given up forever, but I do sort of feel like I've given up for the time being.

I worry all the time that people are judging me because I'm heavy. I worry about seeing old friends I haven't seen in a long time. I worry about meeting some of the people I've gotten to know through the blogging community because apparently I think they wouldn't like me if they realized that I was fat.

I have a bunch of old journals from college (when I was fairly fit) and I routinely wrote about how disgusted I was with myself and how fat I felt among my group of friends. Reading those things now makes me both sad and angry at how pathetic I sounded. If I was overweight then, it wasn't by much. Looking back, I'm sorry I felt that way. Now I feel like I'm absolutely justified in hating my body and I would do a lot to get the one from ten years ago back. Or even five years ago.

I feel like having kids wrecked my body. Which is a lame excuse because there are plenty of mothers with many more children than I have who are not fat.

I worry that I'll be an embarrassment to my children when they are older.

I think there are some relatively simple changes I could make that might make a big difference, but I'm worried I'll change those things and they won't make a difference and it makes me scared to try.

In high school and college I had a less than healthy relationship with food. I was never clinically diagnosed or treated for an eating disorder but there were lots of times that I didn't eat nearly enough and lots of other times that I hid food and then binged and purged. I am scared to try to diet now because I feel like I don't know how without letting it get out of control.

I feel like these are ridiculous things for a 31-year-old woman to deal with. For a long time I thought I had my "issues" behind me, but apparently that's not true at all.

I'm nursing right now, so I am not trying to diet or lose weight. I did lose weight, right after Keegan was born, without trying (breastfeeding side effect, I think). But once I'm finished nursing, I feel like I have to do something, make some changes.

Part of the reason I'm writing this here is that I want to get it out, but I don't think very many people will read it, which is fine with me. I don't even want to write about this in my paper journals because I'm afraid my husband would find it and read it and I would be so embarrassed and ashamed. But if you are reading, and you want to leave a comment, please don't leave me dieting tips -- that's not what I'm looking for right now. I just need an outlet.

And also an invisibility shield, so I can take up running again.

I'm Still Here

Keegan arrived on March 9. He was 31 weeks and five days.

The short story is that we are both fine.

He spent about a month in the NICU before coming home. He's been home for about six weeks now.

With a three-year-old and an infant I am finding it nearly impossible to get to the computer, but I do plan to visit here with a little more frequency.

I have a lot of unprocessed feelings about everything that happened in the last three months, many of which feel inappropriate for my "regular" home.

I want to say thank you again to every one who has thought of us. . . I appreciate it.

1/2 Way?

Just in case anyone is checking. . .

I've been on bed rest for three weeks exactly. A little over a week at the hospital, six days at home, and nearly another week at the hospital.

Now my water has broken so I'm at the hospital until the baby comes or until 34 weeks, which is as pregnant as they are going to let me get.

The days are marching on, with difficult moments and better ones, and we are getting through.

I'll be a whopping 31 weeks on Tuesday.