When I First Thought I Was Fat

Remember when you first started thinking you were fat? The high school days where your whole body could fit into one leg of your jeans now. Iv always had some sort of image or body issue since I could remember. My generous genes provided me with the opportunity to hit puberty early and develop must faster then my peers. And by early, I mean 12... When I should be playing dress up with my Barbies, I was instead learning the ins and outs of being a "woman". I was with my poor stepdad at the time who had no idea what to do so he dropped me off at my aunts. My uncle proceeded to tell me to grab some ice cream and yell at the dog. That day will forever be burned into my mind. Not to mention... it was my birthday.

So from then on I started to develop and look at myself differently. Iv always had a curvy body. My mom used to call my JLo due to my unusually large ass that could used as a shelf. Though I know she was joking, it still bothered me and I would look in the mirror, comparing myself to other girls my age. While other girls my age still looked like average 12 year old girls (aka Justin Beiber), I had a more mature body. I had gotten mistaken for a 16 year old many times. My mother's friends would ask me to run to the store and get them cigarettes, thinking I was 18 already. This was my poor father's worse nightmare.

Yes, if only I was as skinny as I was when I first thought I was fat. Now, two kids later, Im in the most uncomfortable body I have ever been in. Both pregnancies I gain 60 pounds..  I know what you're thinking.. DAMN girl! Did you eat your husband? I almost did. I remember bawling in the kitchen because I was so hungry but nothing was satisfying. I craved raw meat! I was sure my kid was either a tape worm or the Omen. Instead he was almost 8 pounds at 36 weeks.  When I found out I was pregnant with Ogre baby, I was in great shape. I was the smallest I had been since high school and felt fantastic. I couldn't walk by a mirror without winking and yelling out cat calls, "Hey Girl! How you doin'?" But being pregnant through the winter was NOT a good idea. Its not fair that I was knocked up though Halloween candy, Thanksgiving turkey, and Christmas pie. At 4 weeks post partum, I called my doctor asking if I could start running again. All I heard from the other end was laughter.

So as I waited the full 6 weeks to get the clear from the doctor, I avoided the mirror at all costs. I know that I just had a baby but I felt sad, aggravated, and depressed when I would look at myself. Who was this woman in the mirror? Who's body is that? I know I should be happy because there are so many out there who would give up their body over and over again because they so desperately want a child, and here I am, 24 years old with two healthy (one HUGE) babies. But I am human. I am a woman in todays world where gorgeous, unrealistic new moms are flashed on Entertainment Tonight every day. I have come to the conclusion- they are freaks of nature. No one really tells you about the fourth trimester of your pregnancy. The trimester where you have pushed out a baby, fluids, half your organs, and if you are real lucky, a little shit for good fortune. Yes, I should be grateful my body just carried yet another little miracle man. But I will admit it. I was not happy with who I was in the bathroom mirror. I felt ugly. I felt fat. I felt unattractive. I wanted to feel like I was the most beautiful woman for The Beast, but as much as he told me I was still gorgeous as ever, I didn't agree. As wives, we don't necessarily feel better when our husbands compliment us. How do we know they really mean it, and they just aren't trying to avoid being smothered in their sleep?

What felt like forever was finally up. I joined a gym, got some work out clothes that fit, got Ogre baby signed up for the gym daycare and was completely ready to sweat my ass off. I was on the treadmill, sweating, breathing like a horse, and thinking- "damn girl, you must have been going for an hour now".... it had been 10 mins. So I was a little out of shape. It didn't help that my uber in shape, skinny, gorgeous friend was working out next to. She was going on that elliptical like Luke Bryan was down the road with no security and a puppy in his arms with her name on it. After my first day back in the gym, I just laid on the floor in a pool of sweat. Breathing like a 400 pound man with asthma.. Thinking, "I better be skinny in the morning"

But I have to tell myself that it takes time. And that I will never get my high school body back. I have had two kids after all. Spaz managed to push out my hips during labor- being a drama queen and all he had to make a grand entrance to let me know he has arrived. A true mamas boy from the beginning. And Ogre baby had me eating cupcakes like is was my last meal for 36 weeks. Ontop of that, I have stripes on my body like a tiger goddess.. Thanks boys.

Pre Ogre Pregnancy

9 Months into Ogre Pregnancy

Post Ogre Pregnancy

Its been about 10 weeks since Ogre was born and Iv lost 30 lbs so far. I'm halfway there. Its been getting easier to look in the mirror and feel better about myself. My mood is up, which Spaz is thankful for, and I feel less likely to inhale 23 mini cupcakes (I say this as I eye down those frosted animal crackers Spaz has).

I will never give up on my yoga pants and sweatshirts BUT I am embracing jeans again, along with wine- but for much different reasons. The best part? I know longer have Spaz lifting up my shirt in public to poke at my belly and say. "Jiggle jiggle, mommy!"

He's a gentleman. 

I Watch Too Much TV

A deady drug

I watch too much TV.. Actually I watch too much Netflix. Are you the type of person who ruins the movie because you take an educated guess at the beginning how its going to end? I am. And ask my husband- Im right 99% of the time. He hates it. When we start a movie, especially a crime movie, the first thing he says is- DONT GUESS THE KILLER. So the whole time I sit there with a smirk on my face and at the end I blurt out, I KNEW IT!You know that scene from The Heat, where she thinks she knows how to do a tracheotomy after watching it on Dr. Oz or whatever she was watching? If not CLICK THIS, this ego of mine has convinced me that watching these shows makes me capable of knowing what to do. And thats just dangerous.

CSI- New York
They have the greatest one liners at the beginning (you must read these in Mac Taylors voice), "These teens died from blunt force from rocks. Guess these kids...got stoned" "The cook was stabbed with a cork screwed. He got screwed..." "you killed your brother on a plane. Now your grounded"... Waiting for the one liners is half the fun. The other half is learning what to do if I ever come across a dead body. If I stumble upon a corpse- say on campus that was mauled by a mountain lion- don't judge, we were seriously warned at orientation- I'm going to end up being THIS guy:

Ill first tell everyone to back up and give this dead guy some breathing space. Then I'll grab my moby wrap from the trunk of my car and tape off the crime scene. Then I'll stare over the body and give my best one liner while taking my sunglasses off, "Here.. kitty, kitty". Next i'll put on my gloves from lab and use my tweezers from my makeup bag to pull off the cat hair evidence, which I will then stick in my zip lock bags that I keep my pretzels in (don't worry, I dumped those. Cant contaminate evidence). Once I use my blush and brush off finger prints- obviously from the student who let the giant kitty out on campus, Ill use the packing tape I keep in the car for the Beast care packages and remove the prints. That way when the police finally show up, I can hand them the stuff and say.. "Your welcome"  Cue theme music.

LOST
Then there is Lost. If my plane ever crashes on an island, I will stand up and say to my fellow survivors- "Do not panic my fellow men and women. I got this! I watch Netflix" First we will make huts out of the bamboo and giant leaves with the string we miraculously had on hand. Also we will pull a pile of drugs together. Because what Iv learned from Lost is people travel with a hella ton of drugs and someone will get shot. Or pregnant. Then I will get sticks and carve them into spears because Lost has taught me that spear fishing it easy. I will feed all! Fish for everyone! But when that polar bear shows up, we are dead. I can't take on a polar bear. Thats just unrealistic.

STALKED
This has taught me to be paranoid.

My Husband's Mistress

Thats right- you read that correctly. My husband has a mistress.. her name is Afghanistan. And she is a needy wench. Once a year or so she gets lonely and forces my husband to fly across the globe to keep her company for almost the whole year. Leaving me here to have a grand old time as a single parent. And to top it off, whenever the Beast leaves for deployment, all hell breaks loose. If you were sitting around your house thinking, "Hmm I wonder what its like to be Dani over in Colorado while her Beast man is gone.." first I'd tell you that you need to get a life, and then I would enlighten you to the joys of being a military wife to two military brats.

6:00 AM
The day usually starts out with Spaz yelling from his gated off room (you'll learn more about the imprisonment later),
"Mom! Mom! Mama! Mom! Mama! Mama! Mama! Mom! Moooooooooooooom!!!! GET UP!"
"Yes, Spaz, Im coming!"
"Moooooooooooom!!!! Im poopy!"

6:30AM
After I clean up my Spaz' diaper and lecturing him on the joys of going potty on the actual toilet, I begin chasing him around for 15 minutes yelling- "Spaz put a diaper on! We don't do naked mornings... that ended 2 1/2 years ago! Get back here. No don't pee over there!!"

6:45AM
Next is the youngest Spaz, AKA Ogre Baby. I smell something rancid coming from my bedroom. As I walk toward the room all I can think is, "Oh please be a rotting animal..." But nope. That is an explosion of mess in the crib next to the bed. A good morning present from my little gift from the heavens.

7:30AM
After cleaning up that mess we move on to feeding each monster. Ogre baby is easy to feed. He usually wants boob AND bottle then he licks the bottle clean after leaving me deflated. Spaz on the other hand wants one thing and one thing only- Hotdogs and chocolate milk. After telling him no he needs a normal breakfast he usually eats about two bites. After changing, feeding, cleaning, changing again, getting dressed (Which is sweatpants, t-shirt, and hair in pony with dark circles under my eyes) and packing bags, we are finally out the door to school. Oh but not before I hear a powerful voice scream,

"Moooom!!!! Mommmmyyy!!! Im poopy!"

8:30AM
Finally Spaz is at daycare after 10 hugs, 25 kisses, and 15 mins of stalling because he doesn't want me to leave, Ogre Baby and I find a couch to study on while we wait for Chem class. And by study, I mean attempt to read some Chemistry while every other person who walks by stops to say hi to Ogre Baby and ask me 30 questions on being a mom and a student. Let me break it down for you: Being a mom is easy. Because its instinct. Being a student is not. Its not instinct for me to know how to write the condensed structure of 2,2-dimethyl-3-ethylbutanol. I don't think thats any sane human's instinct.
If I'm lucky Beast will Skype me and we will chat about the local gossip and plans for when he comes back. During this I usually get some insane stares from the other students. Why is that hot mess of a chick with that small squawking human talking to her computer?

12:05PM
Class is finally done and Ogre has ate twice but wants more again after his continuous farting through the whole lecture. Baby or not- farts aren't cute.

2:00PM
After an afternoon of cleaning, feeding Ogre Baby, studying, some renovations, feeding Ogre Baby some more, changing 50 diapers with unimaginable colors inside, trying to fit a little time of working out in, and feeding Ogre Baby some more, its time to run to the Post Office to send Beast some care packages. I would like to say this is a quick run.... Ill stand there for an hour waiting as one person works the desk with a 3 mile long line full of angry and high Coloradans continuously bitching about the postal service and blaming it on either, A) the government, B) Obama, C) Immigrants or, D) the Yeti.

3:00PM
As I carry my 50 lb load of baby and carseat into the daycare, while trying to punch in our code through 2 security doors, I start to feel like Im visiting a prison inmate after signing my name in through two books onto of that. I finally get to his classroom door. Spaz's teachers then continue to tell me like they do EVERY day since Beast left, that Spaz was very emotional today and I need to continue to work with him and his emotions. If not that, I get an incident report on how some kid jumped mine and beat the toddler out of him... For how much we pay for daycare here for not even full time, I think they can keep their opinions on how my son is handling his dads departure to themselves and do their jobs.

4:00PM 
Its time for the FRG meeting. For those not associated with the military, this is the Family Readiness Group. The team of wives that help each other out during deployments with anything. For those who are associated with the military, this should be RFG for Real Fast Gossip. I don't usually go but I try and make an effort to be involved and get to know more of the wives. However, like a lot of fellow enlisted wives, I have learned a few things of the people to avoid. You avoid those who think they sweat gold and shit glitter. The ones who can do no wrong because of their husbands rank. Because of these women I usually don't partake in the meetings. I don't feel like sitting next you while you tell me how you know exactly what I'm going through as a mom while her husband is away because you have two cats. Because as all of you mothers know- cats and dogs are just like parenting a child.

5:00PM
Its time for dinner. So I ask Spaz what would he like?
"Hotdogs and chocolate milk"  So Chicken and potatoes it is. As Im cooking, I have Ogre Baby who is hungry again and screaming in my arms to feed him because he won't take pacifiers (iv never appreciated a pacifier more than I have in the last two months), and I have a toddler running around naked screaming hotdogs! chocolate milk! cars cars cars!! Im looking around the corner continuously saying, "put your diaper back on!"...

6:00PM
After getting Spaz to eat two bites of his food, begging him to finish his milk, and giving him yet another dose of benedryl because he has again broke into hives, I bribe him to sit and watch Cars for the 20th time this week- Ogre Baby wants to eat more. Im feeding him while a toddler drags me across the house by my pants to help him with a million things he's managed to break. ONLY TWO MORE HOURS UNTIL BEDTIME... After the 10th melt down in a row, I keep telling myself- you don't want to drink that bottle of wine.

7:30PM
Its bath time now and I fill up the tub but not fast enough. Spaz strips off the clothes Iv put on him for the 30th time and throws every toy he owns into the tub. I start to say, "No, not that one! That one has batteries!!" But its too late. And another one bites the dust.

8:00PM 
FINALLY. Bed time. The heavens have opened and the angels are singing hallelujah. First I have to clean up the gallons of water Spaz has dumped out of the tub. He believed it was the funniest damn thing since sliced bread. Now begins the real fun for the night. The game of "How many times can I get out of bed before mom duct tapes me to my mattress"... Bring it on little man. After an hour of me putting him into his bed and him laughing and chasing me out, naked none-the-less, I gate off his room and he's FINALLY passed out, head down, legs over the side of the bed. As if he was praying that I would let him stay up longer. So I head to bed after cleaning up the tornado that went through the house.. But ill be up every 3 hours or less to feed my garbage disposal baby. As Im laying there about to fall asleep I realize... I haven't even eaten yet.