Next Up: Garbage Bags

I was recently blessed with the beginning of a slight glimmer of a tentative hope that I could start to be satisfied with my bodily shape and size. Not ideal by a long shot, but sustainable and improved from previous months.

Nothing can snuff out that tiny flame more effectively than trying on new clothes, specifically pants. Sure, I went to only one store where I've never had much luck in the past, but that didn't keep me from being disappointed. It seems like whenever I find clothes that fit, I get them because they technically fit and not because they look particularly good on me. But that is the exception: I can never, ever find good pants that fit.

And I'm pretty sure I never will. Whining to Erich, I told him I would just start wearing paper bags. He suggested plastic as it would help me sweat more. I concur; garbage bags it is. Slimming black. He also offered heavy-duty shrink wrap. As IF. I would not wear heavy-duty shrink wrap instead of pants. It would be my shapewear, for sure. I have such a helpful husband to help me figure out my wardrobe woes.

But seriously, I need help. I have so very many clothes of the following categories: warm weather, cold weather, in-between. Of each of those, there's pre-pregnancy (skinny and fat, but mostly fat), maternity, and postpartum.

I'm happy to say postpartum clothes are now too big. I'm still wearing the tops, but they're increasingly tent-like. Maternity is RIGHT OUT. I was still wearing some of my dress pants, but the last time I wore them, they looked ridiculous, so all maternity clothes are officially done. (I have a ten-month-old. I guess it's good I'm not wearing maternity clothes anymore, right?)

So that leaves pre-pregnancy. And since I hadn't worn any of those clothes for about a year and a half, I don't even remember what I have. And from what I've found, it's unpredictable as to what will fit. Most of it doesn't since everything just fits differently now.

I guess I need a completely new wardrobe, but I lack two things: time and money. Oh, and ambition. Plus, I have that feeling that once I finally figure out how to dress my body AND I have some decent clothes that fit, I'm going to find myself pregnant again and have to start all over. 

Makes the garbage bag option seem more and more viable. I wish saris and muumuus were more socially acceptable. Never mind; I'd still probably have to shop for them.

Post that is Not a Post

No exciting blog today. The hubs, the BIL, the Baby and I are going to southern Indiana, and coming back the same day.


We're crazy, but we wouldn't miss youngest BIL as the Beast in Beauty and the Beast for anything. Break a leg, Andrew!

No Whining

Making a point to post every day presents the danger of this blog becoming a place to do nothing but vent and whine. And while I could definitely come up with something to vent and whine about every day, I don't want that for this blog.

Therefore, I will not:

1. Even bring up the topic of sleep and how no one's getting nearly enough of it around here. 
2. Remind everyone that I know it will get better, but that doesn't really help me when all I can think to do is literally ram my head into a wall.
3. Even THINK about complaining that Erich seems to travel all the time and wonder why I ever complained about his absences BL (before Lily).
4. Mention that the sight of my house, everything out of place and still unfinished from having some work done a few weeks ago, makes me want to cower in a corner and sob a bit.

Whew, we can all be glad I'm not going to whine about any of that.

Instead, let's enjoy some pictures of autumnal beauty from before that cyclone came through and blew all the leaves off the trees:

Trick or Treat

Halloween was Sunday dinner at my parents' house. We went for a brief walk and called it trick-or-treating.

Lily was a ladybug.

All three of us.

(I apologize for my appearance. I probably should keep my mouth shut and stop seeing things that no one else does, but I find it hard to believe that I'm that fat. The sweater and pants are both way too big, so let's blame the clothes. I keep meaning to shop for myself, and it keeps not happening.)

Alice! This kid is a champion smiler.

The three cousins. Alayna actually was trick-or-treating.

My cousin, Nathan, wife Anna, and baby Jacob were there! Jacob was the cutest pumpkin ever.

No Credit Taken

Erich and I are very much the parents of one child. Fortunately, we know it and are pretty self-conscious about it. As such, we take absolutely no credit for Lily's many wonderful traits. Conveniently, this frees us from taking credit for her many less-than-desirable traits.

Lily is what many would call a "good" baby. She only cries if she is physically hurt, she loves people, she plays with toys the way they're meant to be played with, and she generally has a very even temperament. Our mothers tell us that Erich and I were the same way as babies, so it's not very shocking that we have such an agreeable child.

Tonight, because Erich is out of town, I took my overtired baby to an election party because I needed a break. She was a complete doll. I could tell she was extremely tired: The staring eyes, the yawns, they give her away. Yet people expect a baby to turn fussy and become a terror when she's getting close to bedtime. So when they know she's super tired and THIS is what she's like when she's sleep deficient, people start laying on the compliments. I acknowledge my luck and move on.

Absolutely nothing I do as a mother makes her this way. And you know what? She challenges me. I struggle. The reason she was so overtired in the first place was that she only napped for one hour this morning and utterly refused an afternoon nap. She did act super tired for about three hours, but for whatever reason, she never would sleep. And I confess I lost my temper.

So no matter how "good" my baby is, I don't have the easiest time in the world. And that makes us normal! If I survive till she's two, she'll probably be quite terrible by then. And I will not be surprised. And I will not accept any blame!

Hair

Lily has a very interesting relationship with hair. Not the hair on her head, which is an exciting mess in itself, but hair on other people's heads.

She has always loved feeling different textures with her fingers, but I believe she finds hair hair to be the ultimate supreme texture. I know it's a thing with babies that they like silky textures and will stroke them to soothe themselves. Lily? Give her some grit and she's happy as a drug addict getting her fix. You can see it in the way her eyes slacken and her head drops as soon as she has her hair.

Having long hair is key. My hair comes just past my shoulders in the front and whenever I hold my sleepy baby close to nurse or rock her to sleep, her free hand goes straight for my neck area. She gropes around until she can find a handful, a strand or clump to clutch in her fist. With the ends toward her thumb, she presses her thumb against the fistful of hair as if she's clicking a button.

Besides the fact that I'm the only lactating human in the household, this is another reason I'm usually the only one who can help get Lily to sleep. Erich, for all his luxurious curls, does not have grabbable strands of hair which hang around his neck. And if I should happen to have my hair tied back on a given day? Well, that situation needs to be remedied quickly because this strong little kid's grasp can and will start pulling apart my 'do to get the precious combination of silky and gritty textures between her tiny fingertips.

Lily's need for hair is right up there with her need to suck. She will usually only hang onto a pacifier if she's going to sleep or is particularly tired. If we happen to be out when she's getting ready for naptime, she will absent-mindedly grab for hair. When hair is not available, she will press her thumb print rhythmically against the edge of a fingernail. If she doesn't have someone else's fingernail available, she will sweep her thumb against the fingers of the same hand.

And so we now understand one of Lily's idiosyncrasies. Just one of those things that make her unique. But! Would you have guessed that this manner of fidgeting is somehow genetic? Indeed! Her father has the exact same fidgeting mannerisms. He used to absent-mindedly scrape his thumb print against my fingernails until I made him stop because it felt creepy. He gravitates toward gently feeling textures, especially textiles, with his fingertips.

Isn't that weird? I mean, Lily's habit is mildly weird enough without the genetic component making it slightly weirder than mildly weird. That's JMVVHO (just my very, very humble opinion). The end!

ETA: Erich reminds me that his brother, Lily's youngest uncle had a hair fetish for years and years. He mainly liked to stroke it. Erich feels textures. Marry those two traits and you get Liy, feeling the texture of hair. Alles klar? Too bad, I'm really done now.

Happy Reformation Day!

The Reformation IS all about:

• The Gospel.
• Namely, the retention of the Gospel message as clearly defined in scripture.
• The Law also--a proper understanding of Law and Gospel.
• Sola Fide, Sola Gratia, Sola Scriptura. As in, we are saved by faith alone through grace alone, and this truth is found in scripture alone. Tradition is good and reliable, too--as long as it does not contradict scripture.

The Reformation is NOT all about:

• Sticking it to the man because that's what Luther did. (That's not exactly true.)
• Changing things, rebelling against the status quo. 
• Beer and brats. (Though we do really like these things.)
• Halloween. (It's just a coincidence.)

And the Winner is...

Erich. He got off to a slow start this morning by being absent (I guess he likes to catch up on Saturdays too???), but he made up for it later by:

1. Doing a bunch of laundry (Be still my heart. I mean, I'm actually starting to really like laundry. But there was more to do than I had time to do before it needed to be done. As in, Baby was going to have to go naked or something.)

2. Making brinner. Including fresh green onions from the garden. It was sooooo good, especially since I forgot to eat for about seven hours in there and I got HONGRY.

3. Helping deal with the crazy baby.

Crazy baby. Seriously, what's gotten in to her?

Sadly, I don't ever get much of a break, since she won't ever stop crying till I swoop in for the (always temporary) save. Having a nine-month-old is hard. :(

Anyway, thanks, Mr. Man. You win.