Blog Envy

I have some. Hard core.

As I sit here, stumbling around the blog-o-sphere, I find myself getting envious of some of the blogs I happen across. The blogs just seem so sweet and simple. And then I read a few posts and the author seems incredibly happy and blessed. And it just spills over into every word she writes. It's a tangible feeling, exuding blessings.... and while it makes me smile, I also get a bit jealous.



I think of myself as a happy person. I have a great life, with great people in it. But I'm about 1000 percent sure that I don't bubble over with pink sparkly love. My writing style isn't charming by any stretch... should it be?

On the one hand, I like having readers. But the blogs that I read that I envy, they don't seem to care about the numbers, but they have quite the following.

Of course, there's also the satirical blogs that make fun of the ones I'm talking about, but those ones aren't funny to me. I mean, why do we have to make fun of people that truly are happy in the life they've chosen?

I know you've all come across a one of the "happy blogs" and tell me, do you think they're painting a picture? Just glossing over the details? Or do you think they really have that great of a life?

Inquiring minds want to know.

Hope Sinks (or I don't do pain)

Warning: This post contains graphic images involving massage oil and stripping. Don't worry. It's not what you think. . .

I've been running off and on (mostly on) for 3 months now. I've had shin troubles off and on (mostly on) for about 3 months now.

On Sunday evening, I began preparing for Monday morning's run. I broke out the massage oil and started to try and break up some of the tissue forming a tight knot on the inside of each of my legs, between my calves and shins.

It's a massage technique called "stripping the muscle" that my chiropractor told me about. (She also told me it would hurt like crazy. Except, come to think of it, she didn't exactly use the word "crazy".)

So. Sunday I massaged my legs. Then I subjected myself to the punishment that is M's brute strength and asked him to strip the muscles on my right leg.

We were sitting in the faux leather office chairs in the office. When the pain hit, my blood pressure immediately spiked, I got all sweaty and hot. As much as I tried to breathe through the pain, it wasn't working. But I managed to get through it.

After a few minutes' rest, I called out "hey! wanna do the other one?" He came traipsing back into the office, all set and ready to do me in. The spiked blood pressure and the sweatiness commenced all over again. My head began to hurt from scrunching up my face and straining against the pain. At which point, I took a mulligan and said "we have to do this where there's a fan. I'm dying over here!"

But even a fan didn't help. It hurt so bad I was writhing in pain on our bed, begging for a break, screaming into my pillow. It was not pretty.

And when he was done, how did I thank him for the newly loosened tissue and for securing my running success the next day? By bursting into to tears, and mumbling something like "I can't do it! I can't have babies!"

Tears were running down my cheeks and the incredulousness with which he was looking at me quickly faded. He walked into the bathroom. I followed, determined to not let him shrug it off, to help him (and myself) understand why I was crying after the hellacious pain I just experienced.

"I always thought I'd be tougher, you know? I mean I know I don't have a high tolerance for pain, but still! I don't think I can do labor! What am I going to do?"

I was suddenly and utterly convinced of my inability to birth a baby. I was heartbroken. And disappointed in myself. And worried. I have always harbored a secret hope that, despite my low pain tolerance, I'd garner some degree of mental strength and bravery against that most infamous and fundamental travail. That hope crumbled feebly under my aching shins that night.

Truthfully, I'm still a little worried. I'm trying to rekindle some shred of hope that my "body will just know what to do". Truthfully, I can't believe I came here to work all this out in my head. It's classic Mars vs. Venus, I suppose. With a little tokophobia mixed in just for fun!

It's a Delicate Balancing Act

Balance: \ˈba-lən(t)s\ noun- an aesthetically pleasing integration of elements; mental and emotional steadiness; a state of equilibrium.

*****

Life is a balancing act. I know that, you know that, we all know that. But knowing is completely different from doing. I KNOW I should prioritize. I KNOW I should do A and B before I get to C, but most days, I just want C.

I have two kinds of days. I have days when I'm completely overwhelmed with all I have to do; and I have days when I'm underwhelmed and feel like there's nothing to do. (and trust me, while the latter sounds nice in theory, it's really not)

My everyday life is pretty busy. I have certain obligations that I have to take care of. (obligations=children) but I struggle with feelings of guilt, and depression, and confidence. There's no way I can do everything that is expected of me. And if I were to give into the world's view of a perfect mom, I'd have even more things to feel guilty about.

Balancing "life" is something I struggle with. I have a constant internal debate about whether or not I'm spending enough time with my kids. Am I spending enough time on my husband? Am I spending enough time on me? Am I spending too much time on me? Is my house clean enough, are my children nice enough, are they happy enough?

The debate is endless. I have a hard time achieving the balance that my life needs. I have days when I'm completely overwhelmed with all I have to do. Doctor's appointments, dental appointments, playdates... and I don't foresee it getting LESS busy as my kids get older. No, I think it's going to get busiER. Oh my life, school buses? school events? PTA? GAH! what's a woman to do?

So I've been trying to get together a game plan of how I'm going to balance life. My list? long. giant. horrendous. enormous. HUGE.

And I've gone over and over it. I've edited it. I've taken out "extras" and edited out the unnecessary things. But it's still approximately 87 miles long. and I struggle.

I struggle with the guilt of spending time on the computer instead of outside with my children. I struggle with the guilt of cleaning the house instead of taking them to the park. I worry that I don't put them first, but then I think, of course I put them first! But that little voice in the back of my head says, "really? you think so?"

I believe that there are a top three when it comes to priorities. Me, my family, and the Lord. I have obligations to all these people. So, how do I make the time? Where does the balance come in? I firmly believe that if I put the Lord first, that everything else will be taken care of.

So, why haven't I been doing it? Why haven't I been putting Him first?

I know I should read the scriptures everyday. I know that we should have family scripture study time. I should be teaching my children how to be like Jesus by example, not just with words. And if I'm the example, how well am I doing?

I admit, we don't get family scripture time in every day. Sometimes, it's all we can do to make it to church on Sunday. We have Family Home Evening every week. We have family prayer, but in this day and age, is it enough?

(It's now time for the cheesy cliched analogy...) I can't stand still. When I think I have everything under control, when I start getting too sure of myself, that's when life knocks me on my rear. I need to remember to keep moving forward. To keep striving for balance. I'll never have it if I am just complacent.

So mommy is getting plastic surgery...

http://www.newsweek.com/id/132240

(for article)

[The book] features a plastic surgeon named Dr. Michael (a musclebound superhero type) and a girl whose mother gets a tummy tuck, a nose job and breast implants. Before her surgery the mom explains that she is getting a smaller tummy: "You see, as I got older, my body stretched and I couldn't fit into my clothes anymore. Dr. Michael is going to help fix that and make me feel better." Mom comes home looking like a slightly bruised Barbie doll with demure bandages on her nose and around her waist. . . . The book doesn't explain exactly why the mother is redoing her nose post-pregnancy. Nonetheless, Mom reassures her little girl that the new nose won't just look "different, my dear—prettier!"

I decided that I would post a little something something...I had to finish an assignment for school anyways, it's late at night or early in the morning (however you want to look at it). I found this book for kids to be quite bizarre and it can go with the earlier post of "Let me hear your body talk". I will speak of the flipside...I on the other hand am not so fond of many of my body parts, maybe this is also because I am 8 months pregnant with my second child. I look back now and think "I use to be skinny and cuter". My self-esteem has definitely been changed for the worse since having kids. I have read stories of ladies being so proud of their stretch marks from childbearing "battle scars". NO WAY! I think they are disgusting. My legs are lumpy and swollen quite nicely at the end of the day and this double butt of mine is starting to freak me out. I would definitely consider plastic surgery in the future, just a little nip and tuck here and there. I would possibly consider getting a boob job or lipo? So to all those who aren't completely comfortable in your own skin what kind of plastic surgery would you like done?