I lose a little weight. I'm down to a size 8 or 10 again. I go and find out I'm pregnant...AGAIN. Yes, this isn't news to any of you, but there's more. I'm not counting my chickens before they hatch so to speak, but the heart rate at the last visit was 160. That was Chicken's range. Not cool. Chicken is so stubborn right now if I find out I'm having another boy I'll have to go into a nuthouse for a little while. Testosterone sucks.
Next, my mother and I get into petty arguments that are starting to wear me down. Mainly about going to church, but I've said most of all I can say to her regarding that. There's been no major blow outs since the last "parent" post, but I'm stressing about my mom and her health. She told me this past Friday that her doctor told her as high as her blood pressure was right now that she was a prime candidate for a heart attack or a stroke RIGHT NOW. As in, this second. I asked her if that motivated her to lose some weight (she's at least 50 pounds overweight, probably more like 60 or 65). Her response? "Scare tactics don't work with me." Whaaa?? I'm sorry, but if someone told me that I might lose my life and all it would have taken would be to lose the twinkies and the potato chips? Adios. I wouldn't want to leave that kind of legacy for my grandkids. Not to mention I wouldn't want to choose those things OVER my grandkids. At my heaviest I was 160, about 40 pounds overweight. I felt soooo gross that I became depressed and all that good stuff. After having Punky and losing 20 pounds just by being pregnant, I realized it wasn't worth eating bad and getting to that point again. Granted, I still eat oreos and mac and cheese (especially since I'm pregnant right now), but just before the pregnancy I was gung-ho to get the rest of it off and enjoy the rest of my 20's and 30s in good shape and looking nice. I learned how to enjoy those things AND still be able to lose weight. I don't want to be an embarrassment to my kids or to my husband. I want him to enjoy a nice body. I want to be able to run after my kids when they get older (PLEASE LET ME BE IN SHAPE BEFORE THEN!) HA! I feel like my attitude is right, so whenever all these little blessings stop coming, I'm certainly going back to the diet and exercise. I mean, I'm still watching what I eat, but of course I can't be trying to lose weight while I'm pregnant!
Ok, so yeah. That's STILL not all. This weekend? Yeah...we got rid of the mustang. My precious, beautiful, awesome-stereo-system, dream car convertible mustang is no more and is in the hands of an unappreciative wholesaler. I'm better now but I felt a little like I was mourning a death. I never get toys. When I do they're never very fun...usually something that's functional or something I actually needed. That car represented my youth. A youth I never got to enjoy, a youth that I resent even now because I had to grow up so much faster than my peers. When that top was down I felt freer than I ever had and it was so much fun to pump up the mach system and feel like a kid again (or at least what I imagined it might feel like). So what did we get in it's place?
A friggin' mini-van. I'm officially...old. I swore I would NEVER get one of those things before 30. To get a mini-van was to admit the aging hands of time had grabbed hold of me and forced me to realize I could no longer have fun. Who can do doughnuts in a parking lot with an Odyssey (not that I ever did.)? Who WOULDN'T laugh if I cranked up the bass (which is pathetic mind you) and rode down the road singing to Old MacDonald? Who can peel out of an intersection and feel the POWER underneath your fingertips with A MINI-VAN!?!?! That's right. You can't. I'd be laughed at, pointed at and people would wag their heads in embarrassment FOR me. Not that I care what someone else thinks, but having a mini-van certainly takes what little fun you can find in driving right out. Don't get me wrong, the van drives awesome. I will admit that much. A mustang tends to be a little shaky since it's so low to the ground, so that's a good aspect of the "van". It's clean, the paint is immaculate and the kids aren't getting their feet wedged between their car seats and the front seats any more. That alone is nice for them. They were getting tired of getting cramped in that thing and I felt bad for them, therefore - at the time - I was ready to get rid of the mustang.
Until the last paper was signed and then I had some MAJOR buyer's remorse. Hubby pulled it around to the front of the building for the last time so we could take out all of our stuff from it. I had to resist the ridiculous urge to smooth my hand over the rag top and kiss it farewell. I also had to resist the urge to grab the keys and pull a Britney Spears and lock myself in the bathroom with them until someone allowed me to take both of them home. We really needed the van with #3 coming. I really needed the mustang. But as I always say, life is tough, I guess I just have to get tough with it. It's more motivation to start writing and get published so I can save enough for another one...maybe even a better one. But for now...
...goodbye ferocious growl that gave me chill bumps when I started you up
...goodbye v8 with so much power it sometimes freaked me out
...goodbye convertible top that gave me the most wonderful feeling of freedom
...goodbye mach stereo system that could jar the windows out of a house a mile away
...goodbye leather seats that were always nice and warm during the summer
...hello squirrels. I will try to feed you well so you can continue working hard.
...hello v6, ran by said squirrels. Just believe in yourself.
...hello automatic opening side doors. My husband thinks that's cool, so I will too.
...hello PATHETIC stereo system. Play your heart out for the kiddos. They need don't need bass like I do.
...hello velvet-like seats. Once we get the pet smell out of you from the previous owners, you won't be too bad.
:oD Give me another week and hopefully I won't miss the mustang too bad and can redeem my sanity amongst all of you, my internet friends.