I have not been real personal on my blog in a few weeks. I think a lot of it has to do with some depression and anxiety issues that I am still battling. These past ten days have been pretty rough for me, for small reasons that truly are just little wake ups. Lets start with the picture below and a funny little story.
I bought these size 10 jeans shortly after I had my son (so 7 years ago). They are American Eagle and are stretchy, so my fluctuating booty size can stretch into these…or so I thought. Last Friday, I taught all day and we had an in home appointment to look at installing solar panels on our home. Although I know that at my current weight (171 lbs if we want to be transparent) these are a bit snug, I also just stopped taking care of my laundry and house and cannot find motivation to pull my life back together, so these babies were what I had left to wear.
So I teach all day in them, I come home and tidy up the main level of our home and then I sit down on the couch for a quick snooze before the solar representative comes. Well he gets here, the husband is putting the dogs somewhere and I go outside in our garage to get some water bottles from our fridge out there, only to come in and realize that at some point my entire ass has ripped out and is hanging out of these jeans. I couldn’t tell you when this happened, I am pretty sure I was home from work already as I do not remember feeling a draft then, but you know, I easily could have been embarrassingly walking around with my butt hanging out and torn jeans for hours.
This little wake up call reminds me that my goal weight of 155 needs to be back on my radar and that the diabetic in me cannot stop taking care of myself…which is what I have done these last 7 months.
Fast forward to the following Monday and we are at my parents house. The kids are playing in the backyard on their swing set and the little princess keeps insisting that she go in front of her brother while he swings. My dad and I keep telling her no and to go around…so she goes behind him and of course they collide and her 30 lb body flies into the ground pretty forcefully. I run to the baby, rush her inside, clean her up and check her eye out because it is obviously pretty red. She cries but is over it pretty quickly. I put Neosporin on her little cuts for the next couple days only to get a call from her school that we have an emergent situation.
The emergency? Oh my daughter has a rock in her eye that I have missed these last 2 days. I rush from work to meet her at my babysitters house. I walk into the house on the phone with the doctors office and see my sweet girl sitting there coloring calmly. Here eye is not red and from the outside you cant see this rock that everyone is freaking out over. Our babysitter tells us that it is definitely there, so I ask if I can take a look all while I am on hold with the ophthalmology department. I go to pull down her bottom eyelid and out pops this pebble, from the bottom of her eye.
My kid hardly reacts, tells me that it feels fine and continues to color. The doctors are now not concerned and tell us to have the doctor check out her eye at her well-child check the next day. We do, no damage, no redness, nothing. She walked around, danced, played and was completely normal and fine for 2 days with a rock in her eye and I never noticed…even though I had been putting medicine around the eye. I never felt a rock…and I checked. What a terrible mother I felt like.
This little wake up call reminds me that things are not always what they seem and that I need to be more diligent when my kids get injured. I am always the mom that is like “you’re fine, lets get a bandaid and get on with our lives”. Probably not the best idea in this instance.
A month ago, I made an appointment to trim my super long hair. I grew up with extremely long hair. My parents would not let us cut our hair until we were in high school so hair nearly to my bottom is pretty normal for me. I have thick, strong hair, but it was getting dry and damaged at the ends and I had not had a trim in probably 8 months. Well after ripping my butt out of my jeans and being a terrible parent, I decided that the long hair and my attitude towards this last year needed to go. It was time for a fresh start. So my aunt and I chopped off 10 inches of my hair, donated it to Wigs for Kids and started fresh.