Crazy Baby Invasion; My body

I had a friend post something on Facebook today that got me starting to think about body image issues.  Namely my own personal image issues.  Then it got me thinking about why I have them, and how to change them.  I don't have answers, but it did spark the idea for today's writing. 

I know that I do not have an original story - many women have gone through similar or even more body-boggling times.  But here is my story nonetheless. 

From the year 2003 until 2010, I was either pregnant or breastfeeding.  In that 8 year span, there were approximately three months TOTAL that I was not pregnant or nursing.  3 months.  And in those 3 months, we were no doubt trying for another.  Pregnant for 9 months, nurse for a year.  Rinse. Repeat.  That's a long time.  A really long time.  My body was not my own for EIGHT. YEARS.  Almost an entire decade.  Eight years where someone was feeding off of my body - whether leaching on the insides or hanging off the outsides.  My calories were never mine - always responsible for more than just feeding me.  It was a strange thing, when I had stopped nursing the twins, to understand that what I ate was *just* for me.  Only me!  I wasn't really sure even how to do that! 

But I'm ahead of myself here....

In 2003, I got pregnant with Ethan.  I followed the "What to Expect" diets.   I ended up gaining 55 pounds that year.  I'm not sure where...

7 months pregnant with Ethan

The following year, 2004, Ethan was born in January. 8 lb 5 oz of adorable.   I wanted to lose the baby weight!  So within the next year, I lost 65 pounds.  Dropped an extra 10 - YES! 

In 2005, I got pregnant with Noah.  I gained 75 pounds.  I had read after following that happy little "What to Expect" malarky that your body is going to gain what it's going to gain, regardless of what you ate.  I tested that theory.  Come to find out, you CAN eat enough ice cream to make a difference.  I was 6 months in, and one of my docs (we went to a group OB) said, "Well... you've gained 40 pounds already...."  I was like, yup.  Keep watching, Doc... Ha!

Look ma! No hands! 

Sweet little Noah was born. All 9 lb 8 oz of him.  I joked that he came out with an inch layer of ice cream under his skin. 

In 2006, I lost 65 pounds.  Back to the initial pre-pregnancy weight, so I was good.  No need to be an overachiever.  Yeesh.

In 2007, I got pregnant with Naomi.  For some frustrating reason, I only wanted vegetables with her.  I ended up only gaining about 40 pounds.  Only a 40 pound weight-gain in a year.  Obviously losing my edge.  They did a growth ultrasound on me, because the doctors were concerned at the exponential rate that my babies' birthrate were taking... Meaning, Noah was more than a full pound heavier than Ethan at birth.  They were concerned that I would have an 11 pounder.  Naomi came in at 9 pounds even.  Dainty little thing...

Our computer crashed and I lost all pregnant photos of Naomi.  So here are the boys riding on Jerry's back.

By this time, I now have 3 kids, 4 and under.  Apparently, vegetable fat is harder to lose than ice cream fat, and I only ended up losing 25 of my 40.  Ugh.  I blame the fact that she was a girl... (and not the eating and lack of exercising after the fact.  I think that is irrelevant.)  2008 is the least impressive of my yo-yo weight saga, only losing 25 pounds... 

Then we got super-efficient at the pregnancy game, and started making them two at a time.  2009.  I have no idea how much weight I gained for my twins.  By the end of my pregnancy, I didn't fit on the scale.  Well, not facing forward.  My belly would bump the back of the scale.  I got weighed backward.  (At least they didn't bring in the big sling crane used to weigh whales...)  I think it was close to 70 pounds again. (plus the extra I didn't lose from Naomi)  I have no idea.   My body was ridiculous at this point.  Ridiculous. I could have gained more if there was room for a stomach in my body anymore...

What it looks like to carry two full-sized babies inside one stretchy belly

Josh and Faith were born November 3, 2009.  Josh was first, at 7 lb 12 oz.  Faith was 4 minutes later at 7 lb 6 oz.  Over 15 pounds of baby in there. Yowsa. 

So now I have 5 kids.  Aged 5 and under.  For one whole week, three of my kids were aged 1 and under (Naomi turned 2 a week after they were born.)  To say that "losing baby weight" didn't fall high on the list - well, there wasn't a list.  I was in survival mode.  I honestly can't say that I remember anything from that first full year.  (Thank goodness for Facebook statuses!  It's like being an amnesia patient, finding out what happened to me.)   I think after they turned 1, I put an effort into losing the baby weight. 

So here I am.  Three years into eating for my own sake.  And it's still strange! I am close enough to my pre-prego weight that I shouldn't care much.  Except I can't shake this feeling that I have to lose weight.  It was such a lifestyle for so long, that it's just hard to break.  In my mind, I think it rationalizes "Not pregnant. Must. Lose. Weight." Again, I don't have any answers to this, aside from telling myself that it's not necessary (which of course doesn't really work.)   At least I am past the point of posting bare belly profile pics of myself... Ha!

I just feel that it all deserves a quick recap, though.  So here is my snapshot chart.
2003 - gain 55 pounds
2004 - lose 65 pounds
2005 - gain 75 pounds
2006 - lose 65 pounds
2007 - gain 40 pounds
2008 - lose 25 pounds
2009 - gain at least 70 pounds

Pretty surreal, when you see it all like that.  No wonder my body doesn't know what normal is.  I have no grasp of what my adult woman body should look like in a steady-state.  I have no "normal" to return to, because for so many years it wasn't there. 

Not that I would ever even desire "normal" - what IS that, anyway?  A setting on the washing machine.  Exactly.

Beautiful Gardens and Why They Are Awful

The year was 2001.  I had a remarkable few months of life.  Within four months, I graduated college, moved, started a job, got married, and bought a house. 

I was 22 years old.  At the time, I felt like I was a for-real grownup.  I had years of experience under my belt.  High school - mastered.  College - done.  Husband - found.  Real world, here we come!!!

Now I realize just how young that is... wow.  22. Twenty-two.  Still a kid!  But I digress...

So I was 22, Jerry had just turned a mature 24, and we felt it was time to buy a house.  He was working in Flint, I was working in Warren, so we decided to cut the distance and look in Clarkston.  Until we, in fact, looked in Clarkston and realized we could afford a really nice shed.  Maybe a garage, if we stretched the budget.  But a house?  Ha.  Someone that Jerry worked with said if we wanted to find something affordable, look north of I-69.  Thus started our search.  We took one Saturday just to drive around aimlessly in the towns nearby.  The first time we drove through downtown Flushing, we fell in love with the town.  It looks just like downtown Houghton (GO HUSKIES!), which of course means it must be awesome. 

Houghton downtown

Flushing downtown

We found a realtor that we liked, and off we went.  In one day, we looked at 11 houses.  Doesn't seem like much, I suppose...  Except when you are looking at 11 houses in one day.  The tenth house we looked at was the house we ended up buying.  I remember hardly being able to get out of the car, having climbed in and out of the back of a Sunfire 9 times already...  but luckily I managed.  The house was awesome!  A 1970s quad level - what's not to love!!! (tee hee) And the yard!  Oh my.  It was delightful.  Beautiful gardens everywhere.  EVERYWHERE.  So serene and relaxing...

The winner

I think this is called tranquility...

We bought the house.  At the closing, the sweet lady (original owners) that we bought it from handed us a journal.  A gardening journal.  (Hmmm?  Oh - thanks...) We moved in in November, 2001.  No need to care about gardens - winter is coming.  (Had I read the journal, I would have learned about winterizing and what needed to happen in November.  Thank goodness I didn't read that - it would have been a lot of work... Unfortunately, it cost us the custom sprinkler system that ran throughout the entire yard...)

That following spring, we had a rude awakening.  Things started to grow.  Lots of stuff.  Everywhere.  It was like we were being overtaken by plants.  I've read Stephen King.  I know about things coming to life and attacking - this was nothing new, but terrifying nonetheless...

As I started the non-stop job of weeding, I saw little signs telling what the plants were.  I didn't know what it was labeling, since I couldn't identify plant vs. weed.  I had a friend who liked to garden come over.  She pointed out "weed" and "not weed" to me, to give me a heads up when yanking things.  (But there were some stumpers for her, too)  We later found out that our house (well... THEIR house...) was on the Genessee County Garden Tour.  People would show up in a bus and walk through our beautiful yard.  Seriously.  Not a joke. By this point, I would find a little sign knocked over and play "eenie meenie minie moe" and place it in front of something.  It might have been helpful if things weren't labeled in Latin... no joke.  Latin. 

It became very apparent the amount of work that goes into making these gardens so tranquil.  The first time I was actually confronted with this reality was when we got a letter from our mail lady saying "If you don't trim the tree blocking your sidewalk, I will not be able to deliver your mail."  I wanted to cry.  We are supposed to trim things?  Uggggh...  I thought the weeds were bad enough...  now the plants need upkeep too???

Anyway, I just wanted to put out a warning.  If you are looking for a house, and you find one with a beautiful yard, DON'T BUY IT.  It's a trap!!!  Because soon you will be "those neighbors" with brown grass and a garden of tranquility that looks like THIS:

"I love how natural everything looks, with a touch of large plastic"

I spent nearly 40 hours this past week weeding, weeding, pruning, weeding, and spreading mulch.  FORTY. HOURS.  And this is in a yard of survivors.  After that first year?  That's all that's left.  Survivors.  We have removed 6 of the 13 beautiful gardens that graced our backyard.  Yes, there were 13 gardens in our back yard.  Sorry any Master Gardeners out there...  I'm sure we have done something sacrilegious... But if you would like to come to my house, you are more than welcome to come over and work! 

I apologize for the randomness and spaced out-ness of this post.  It seems I have spent forty hours in the heat and sun, and there is a chance it has negatively affected my brain.  (or it could be the 5 kids... or that.)  One last tidbit that I find amusing... every time I try to attack my gardens to get some sort of tranquility back, I always say "Thanks a lot, Adam" in my head.  Over and over.  Why?  Because this is HIS fault.  I mean, I get it.  A naked lady offers you fruit - you eat it.  How about a little self-control, Adam? 
"¹⁷ To Adam he said, “Because you listened to your wife and ate fruit from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat from it,’

“Cursed is the ground because of you;
    through painful toil you will eat food from it
    all the days of your life.
¹⁸ It will produce thorns and thistles for you,
    and you will eat the plants of the field."  Genesis 3:17-18

Thorns and thistles, Adam.  Do you want to know how many thorns and thistles I had to deal with?  Bags and bags and bags... Ugh.  Thanks, Adam.  Thanks a lot. <eyeroll>

But now, having toiled and toiled, please - feel free to stop by and see my beautiful yard!  In fact, we might just put it on the market, just to fool some other young kid into thinking this is a fantastic yard.... heh.  Heh heh heh.... Then at closing, I'll hand them a journal.  In it will be one word... "SUCKERS!!!!!"

Homeschool: Because what mother wants a clean home and alone time?

I have never really put out there the whole "why did you choose to homeschool" story.  Partly because I wasn't so sure myself.  So here it is.  The nitty gritty of why I am now a homeschool mom. 

First let me preface by saying that I had a mental calendar from the time that the twins shot into this world as to how long before I was home alone in my house....  5 years until kindergarten, then blissful, beautiful, time to clean and organize by myself time.  I can do this.  I can do 5 years...  We'll make it, somehow. 

Then a couple of years ago, there was a nudge.  I ignored it as best as I could.  Homeschool?  Only weirdos homeschool (we'll get to that later... ahem!).  Sometimes when God nudges, I think it's just to see if you are awake.  I was awake.  So I let it go. 

Then closer to Christmas time, the nudging got a little pushier.  I remember sitting in Noah's parent/teacher conference, discussing his behavior issues, and looking at his test scores.  I was curious as to what his reading level was, since he has been reading flawlessly and fluently since he was 4.  Well, there wasn't really an answer, because the schools only test to a certain level and no higher.  Oh.  Ok.  But (!!!) the computer lab program that they use allows for them to actually achieve their level with no limitations (phew...).  So that was good... at least twice a week he would have the opportunity of being challenged... and for the rest of school week, he can practice trying to behave in a classroom.  (I later found out at spring conferences, once I already knew that we would be homeschooling, that the computer program glitched out and nobody caught it - he had been stuck getting 100% on 1st grade for the entire year.  I wanted to scream...)  But still - we were back in November and I rationalized it.  Ok, we read at home a lot... he'll get his reading in... he'll be fine.  We're fine.

Then there was Ethan.  Knowing he was on the spectrum (that's another blog... here is one I wrote when we got the diagnosis http://nettandjerry.blogspot.com/2008/05/up-to-speed.html) we would have IEP meetings.  He was so high functioning that he never qualified for any services (which is awesome!) and we felt it was so important to keep him in mainstream school for the socialization that he would need to help him along.  But there were also some frustrations academic-wise.  His strength is math.  The kid has been doing multiplication in his head since before kindergarten.  No joke.  But he so very much LOVED the establishment of school, that it was never a problem.  No behavior issues here!  He will sit and learn how to add with no problems at all.  But seriously - math is my THING, so I knew we would just to math at home, and eventually when it was offered at different levels in school, he could jump into a high level. 

OH!  And I called the guy in charge of gifted/talented programming for the district.  He said his budget for the YEAR for that program was $36... and for me to let him know when I decided to homeschool because then he could lead me to some resources.  So those issues were there... just kinda lingering.  But if you are talking about challenging my children in math/reading vs. them not being all up in my business all day while I take care of 3 OTHER kids... No contest.  You're going to school.  But the homeschool seed was there.  Just needed some watering. 

Enter Christmas Break.  It was an awesome Christmas break, hanging out with the family.  The twinnies were 2 and old enough to be .. well, everything you expect 2 year old twins to be.  As it neared time for them to go back, Ethan started having anxiety issues.  What if he forgets to write his name on his paper... (This happened in the fall once and his teacher threw his paper away.  It affected bedtime for WEEKS with the anxiety. Thanks, Teach.)  So in trying to calm Ethan down, Noah started up.  He would cry and cry because he didn't want to go back to school.  It took too long and it was so boring and he wished he didn't have to go back (please keep reading, lest you think this is the reason we homeschool...)  What that DID do, was place the idea of "time" in my head. 

I started thinking about it.  The bus comes to pick them up at 8am, and drops them off at 4pm.  My children are gone forty hours a week.  A full time job.  I started picturing them wearing little bowler caps and carrying brief cases.  Which was funny.  But ridiculous.  40 hours.  Time.  Time was a big, big thing.  It started wearing on my heart.  They were gone from the time they woke up until the time I started making dinner, which is crazy-time in the Rice house.  Then dinner, bath, bedtime.  There was no time for family time.  There was no time to just BE.  Plus add in extras - more time.  Scouts, Upward sports, Wednesday church.  We really don't go overboard with activities, but when you are dealing with 5 kids and 3 hours of non-school time a day... anyway.  OH!  And an annoyance more than anything (but it really affected my brain) was "reading time."  Ethan had a reading log.  He had to read every. Single. Night.  Fair enough - we read a lot.  But he had to read by himself.  Out loud, so I could hear.  And some nights, when you have 4 siblings, that does not happen!  I asked him one time, "Hey, how about you get your reading time in at school, because I know you get done with your work early..." To which he responded, "No, my teacher said I have to read at home."  I was irritated at how this was teaching poor time management.  Sit here idle, and take your family time to read by yourself...

Then there was Naomi.  At the time she was in preschool.  It was Great Start preschool, which we LOVE!  It's like HeadStart, except you can get in for risk factors instead of just income.  Which is totally awesome, because my kids have tons of risk factors!  (Ha... I guess it would be better if they didn't?? But at the screening we were like, "She's got arthritis, a brother with autism, she's had speech and physical delays... we are so IN!!!")  Anyway, it's an awesome preschool program that was so much like Junior Kindergarten that we knew she would be ready for kindergarten!  Except she is young.  And she would still have days even in the spring where she would cry getting on the bus.  Luckily, we had an awesome and amazing bus driver (who even held her when she cried so hard she threw up on her bus....) so I felt ok sending her.  But then our district (I hear state-wide) went to all-day kindergarten.  All. Day.  My 4 year old (because her birthday is November 10).  Gone 40 hours a week.  No way, Jose.  Academically she was ready.  Emotionally she was totally not.  But there was no longer a Junior Kindergarten option - it went away with all day kindergarten. 

These are some of the head reasons why.  Maybe touched on a couple heart issues.  But the real, true issues had to do with prayer.  The nudging turned into elbow jabs, and things started to get real.  I would pray for a sign.  "God... if You really want me to homeschool, please give me a sign."  Then BAM.  A sign.  "Ok, God... that was nice.  But if You really want me to homeschool, please give me another sign." BAM BAM.  Another sign.  I would pray for specific things... "If You REALLY want me to homeschool, let one of my kids ask about it."  Noah one day, out of the blue, "Mom - what does homeschool mean?"  Good one, God.  "God, if you REALLY want me to homeschool, have my kids mention You and school together..."  Ethan randomly "Our principal said that we aren't allowed to mention God in school."  (I called the teacher and she never heard this, so before anyone freaks out...) (Also, I told him that he most certainly could!)  I was Gideon, facing a huge army (homeschool) and I asked for every version of the wet/dry fleece thing (Judges 6).  Here is a funny, quirky sign... I was like, hey, I remember my kindergarten boyfriend (don't you judge me!) - he stopped going to our school and was homeschooled... I'll see if he's on Facebook and ask him about it.  Yep.  He was.  And guess what - he is married and just got out of seminary.  Did he turn out ok? Of course he did.  <sigh> 

So some things to know for certain.  1) I have NOTHING against the public school system.  I was public schooled, so was Jerry.  We both loved it. I always feel like I should defend it when people find out that I homeschool. 2) Teachers are underpaid!  (I have always thought this.  If you question it, feel free to homeschool... you'll find out right quick.)  3) I didn't do it solely for academic reasons (although both boys grade-bumped at home - so it definitely is nice to challenge them in that way)  4) I didn't do it for overly-conservative Christian reasons (although there's nothing wrong with that reason)  5) I didn't really want this!!!!!  I didn't want to.  Asking for all of those signs?  It was because I DIDN'T WANT THIS TO BE THE ANSWER.  I was not joking when I said that I wanted some alone time.  Time to clean... time to watch the Price is Right.  Time to have coffee with friends.  God just had other plans.  I have since grown into it and accepted it.  But seriously this wasn't like "I know what I want to do. I'm bored.  I think I'll keep my kids home and teach them!"  6) Homeschool is NO JOKE.  Ugh.  I was literally held hostage to my kitchen table while twin toddlers ran rampant, destroying my home.  Laundry piled up, dishes piled up, the house was trashed.  7) I wouldn't have it any other way now.  I know this really IS what is best for my kids (like God knew that already or something... huh.)  I love that they can have swim lessons in the middle of the day and not during our family time.  I love that I can sit with them and teach them.  I love (most of the time) that I can deal with behavior issues as they come up.  There is so much molding and shaping that I want to happen with my children that I am now able to do. 

So that comment earlier about how I didn't want to homeschool because only weirdos homeschool?  I think of the winner of the National Spelling Bee, or the kid that whispers to himself after he talks... then I look at my kids and I giggle.  Those are MY KIDS.  Noah seriously repeats himself in a whisper sometimes (it's called palilalia and actually is common among children who are overly verbal and excellent readers.... who knew.)  Ethan, who will calculate how fast we are driving based on the distance vs time.  In his head.  I could go on and on - maybe a blog some day called "When Engineers Procreate" 

Whew - this was lengthy.  I am open to questions.  Or none.  I have next year's curriculum already in my basement, and I am already tweaking my plans so that it can be even more enjoyable than this year. (My sister is laughing right now... shush your mouth, Dar!)  Ok, so some days are really, really hard.  But we made it through, and to me, being obedient to the call on me was worth it.  And to those who have asked - yes, after the first year, I still am going to homeschool next year.  Lord willing!

The Deep Clean

Wow - with a title that interesting, who wouldn't keep reading!

About 3 times a year, I go through my house and do a deep clean.  Not a spring cleaning where everything gets washed... no.  More of a reorganization day.  Hopefully I have energy left after this to actually wash things.  It's debatable.


Not to bore you with all of the details - but I go through each bedroom, and create piles.  There's the "Boys room" pile, "Naomi's room" pile,  "twins room," "basement," "living room toy bin," "dirty laundry," and of course "garbage."  With 7 people in one house, things get all misplaced ALL THE TIME.  And my husband (whom I love dearly) is a stuffer.  He likes things to look tidy (NOT implying that I don't), so he will open up a bin, and put whatever he sees on the floor into that bin.  If it's on the floor - it's going in the bin.  Anything.  Anything at all... stuffed in a bin. 

I am a sanitizer.  I like things tidy, but I would much rather bleach everything.  Also, I will leave things all over the floor because I do not have the time at that moment to put things in the exact bin where they need to go. 

We live in a constant tension.  Stuffers and bleachers cohabitating.  I know.  Real problems. 

I'm rambling (couldn't be that I'm trying to avoid ... the deep clean?!?!) 

Before you judge me (Don't you judge me!), we do make our kids clean up their rooms.  But the thing is... they suck at it.  They try, and I appreciate it.  But sometimes (3 times a year, apparently) it just takes mom to go through and do it right.

So as I was upstairs and my 5 lovely children were downstairs watching television, I thought of some things that should NOT be said to me while I am doing this chore.  Things that I thought of, well, because they were said to me... In no particular order.

"Wow mom, this room sure is a mess.  You have a lot of work to do."  Thanks, Captain Obvious.  I was unaware. Now get. out. of. your. room. 

"Mom, you might want to start with my dresser - it's really trashed."  How did it get that way? Know what... nevermind... just get. out. of. your. room.

"Mom, can I have some ice water?"  Sure - just get a cup of ice water...  "But I want YOU to get it for me... pleeeeease?"  No.  No I will not.  <twitch>

"Mom, ______ won't get away from me on the couch."   Oh, did you ask him to move away from you?  "No.  Can you come talk to him?"  No.  No I will not. <twitch... twitch>

(Names have been omitted to protect the *innocent*) 

But to show what a saint I am married to, Jerry came home, saw the disarray of "Mid-Deep-Cleaning" and took ... wait for it ... ALL FIVE kids to the grocery store with him.  I am in my house BY MYSELF!!!!  Plus, to add frosting to the beautiful home alone cake, he is also going to put air in the tire on my van!  (I may have an irrational fear of inflating things. What if it explodes! Right in my face!!! How terrifying!) (It's an irrational fear - you won't be able to explain me out of it.  That's what makes it irrational...but thanks for the thought.)

Ok.  Off to continue.  I am 2 bedrooms in.  I can do this.  I CAN DO THIS!!!!  <Raaaaarrrrr!!!!>  (But I might just sit in the silence for a tad bit longer... it is really beautiful...)

The humble beginnings

Here it is, folks.  You've seen me post on Facebook about my *picture-perfect* life, and now here it is.  A blog to collect those moments that require more than a status update will allow. 

For those of you new - here's a little bit about myself.  I met my husband at Michigan Tech where we were both studying to be engineers (although I argue that we are both inherently engineers in all of our beings - the education or job thereafter are just natural effects of how we were made).  He asked me out at a Halloween party where he was dressed as Gene Simmons, leather pants and all.  I was dressed as a "twin" with my friend because there was a better party I was saving my good costume for.  Anyway, I said yes.

On our first date, we saw Soldier (hands-down the worst movie ever created) and went out for a Chocolate Chipper Sundae at Perkins.  I later learned that my then-first-date now-husband does not eat ice cream.  Or chocolate chip cookies.  This was a sundae combining the two.  During our chat over ice cream (which I unashamedly ate most of.  I was a girl at Michigan Tech - there was nothing to lose), Jerry asked me "What do you plan on doing with your degrees?"  (I dual majored.  I snuck a business degree in there, too) to which I answered "Well, I've already interned with GM. So I'll probably work for them.  But I plan on being a stay-at-home mom." 

BOOM.  First date.  How's that for bold?  But really - that's what I always wanted to be.  First date fodder?  Well, if you are efficient, then yes.  Why pull punches?  (If you question my boldness, feel free to Google "guy to girl ratio at Michigan Tech")

So here we are.  Nearly 15 years after that monumental first date.  We have since had 5 children.  And here I am, a stay at home mom.  It gets better - I now homeschool.  So those days where I am sitting on the floor, rocking in the corner because of the craziness that is our household, Jerry chuckles and tells me lovingly, "You're living the dream!  This is what you've always wanted!" 

There's more background I could tell.  But apparently my kids are hungry, and it's lunch time.  Why do they need to eat so many times a day!?!? 

To those that wanted a blog - I hope this doesn't disappoint.  For those that found this blog because you actually wanted to hear about a trophy wife, then I apologize.  You are a victim of my sense of humor.