Ugh. Today is Christmas. Supposed to be a day of joy and laughter, love and peace, bright shining faces, right? *sigh*
My 3 kids all have viral upper respiratory infections and asthma, as I've mentioned. They all get inhaler treatments every 4 hours. They also are coughing and sneezing like no one's business. So that means I get to stay home with them today. I just am not willing to take them to my in-laws and potentially expose either MIL who is on chemo and radiation, or Macy who is just 3 months old, to the germs. I don't know if my kids are contagious, but I would never ever get over it if my children's germs caused someone to get sick.
Owen had RSV when he was just 6 weeks old, and the days we spent in the hospital are not something I'd wish on anyone. I also don't want to be responsible for weakening my MIL's body even more, by introducing germs that can turn into pneumonia or something worse.
So here I sit. With my 3 sick kids. Trying not to dissolve into a puddle of tears. I know it's for the best. In fact, it was my decision. Josh wanted to stay home, but it's his family. And I don't know how many more Christmases we'll have with his mom as healthy as she is right now, so I wouldn't dream of making him miss that. MIL and FIL even said it was fine to come. But I just can't. I would be stressed and worried the whole time, and it's just not worth it.
Also, I weighed myself today. Insert gigantic, melancholy sigh. 147. I can't believe it. But I do know that there are more factors weighing in (ha, I made a pun) than just eating too much. Don't get me wrong, I've been doing that in spades. But it's also my TOM, I'm constipated (as usual), I haven't been drinking water and I have been eating salty foods.
And today, I'm just done with it all. I'm DONE with living for food. I don't feel like I consciously live for it, but these past 3 weeks especially, I've been mindlessly eating. Just putting things in my mouth, chewing, swallowing, grabbing another handful. Repeat ad nauseum. I disgust myself. I have no self-control. No will power.
It's really hard being alone with the kids for so much of the time. Josh was gone 9 out of 13 days the last two weeks. He was home 4 times, and not even full days, except for last Sat and Sun. We don't have a washer and dryer so I've been carting loads and loads of laundry back and forth to my mom's and the laundromat. The kids are sick, extra extra grumpy, malicious to each other. I ran out of my drops from Dr. Ray because I didn't order more in time because I had to wait for Josh to get paid. And now I feel like I'm playing catch-up, except things are worse than normal because it's PMS time which means my hormones are out just from that.
I feel... overwhelmed. Like I'm carrying around a huge sack of boulders on my shoulders. I missed a birthday party for one of my best friends because Josh wasn't back from WA in time. Actually, he did get in around 7:30 and the party didn't start til 9, but I was so incredibly exhausted and the kids were all needing breathing treatments, and I was just on the verge of a breakdown so I didn't go. It wouldn't have been nice for me to crash the party with my sobbing and wailing. But I still feel bad.
I feel...dread. Because nothing is going to get better anytime soon. Josh will continue to be gone 4 days a week until who knows when, but at least the next 6 months. Maybe a year. MIL seems to be doing okay, but I can tell the treatments are starting to wear on her. She's tired and cold. She has no appetite. Her hair is starting to fall out. And I can't bear to see her like that. Yet, there's not really anything I can do. I take her to her radiation appointments sometimes, and chat with her, which is actually really nice for both of us. But I can see her withering away before my very eyes and it's just too much.
I feel...obese. I need to start exercising, but don't know when to do it. I wanted to start jogging in the evenings, except I can't do that now because Josh isn't here. I could do it Fri, Sat, Sun but usually by the time the weekend gets here I have zero energy or stamina left. I guess I'll just have to fit my video in at some point during the day. Yet at the same time I look in the mirror and my heart falls. I'm fat. Really, I am. I can see where the fat is accumulating and the muscles are lost in the mass that is me. My pants are like a tourniquet around my waist. My muffin top is vying for a Guinness World Record. My arms probably cause earthquakes in Japan from all their jiggling.
I feel...unhealthy. I need to improve what I eat. We're pretty much settled in completely now so I can focus on eating more healthfully. I got rid of our microwave, and I haven't regretted it or missed it. I don't buy chicken nuggets or corn dogs for my kids anymore, except on the very rare occasion. I need to eat more salad, but it's hard, especially in the winter when I'm always cold and want warm food. I should just make a huge pot of soup and eat that for a while. I need to start counting calories, but don't even really know where to start because I have to run back and forth to the computer for every. single. food. item.
I want to do HCG, but am really scared it's going to whack out my hormones again. Yet, it's the only way I've been successful at losing weight. It works. It's fast. I could probably get off ALL my excess weight in 3 rounds. I'm going to Europe in March for a women's conference and I don't want to be self-conscious about my weight and how tight my clothes are.
I feel a tiny bit better getting all that off my chest. I'm not looking for sympathy, because I know how good I actually have it. I have a husband who adores me, who helps me more than he has to, who loves me with every single fiber in his being. I have 3 healthy (for the most part) :-P, intelligent, funny children who love me despite all my shortcomings. I have wonderful, amazing, loyal friends and family who support me in whatever way they can.
Sometimes it's just nice to vent. To put into writing everything that I'm feeling and thinking. And that's what this post is. A vent. A rant. I don't want to complain, or end up bitter or resentful. And I don't think it's wrong or unhealthy to write out what I'm feeling and thinking. I don't want to make a habit of it, of always complaining about life and things I can't change. But for today, it was helpful.
Now I'll go hitch up my (way too tight) big girl pants and get back to work. There's housework to be done, and an inner work inside myself going on that needs to be tended and cared for. And I need to figure out a plan of attack for myself. How I'm going to conquer my unhealthy eating habits and conquer my weight. Because I will persevere and I will reach my goal.