Not Proud

So, as I said in my last blog, I've been sick.  Well, today it decided to manifest when I got home from work.  Instead of eating a healthy lunch and getting my butt into gear, I got distracted by my own imagination and sickness and just never did it.  Now, it's pretty easy to rationalize that I'm sick and I probably shouldn't be working out.... wrong.

The thing is, it would be easy to rationalize, except the other day I was more sick than I am now and I did Zimbabwe for 30 minutes and I went for a 30 minute walk later that night. So no, I can only attribute it to my own distracted laziness.

That being said, I'm working on an interesting project.  I'm going to be doing a vlog based off of illustrations that I do.  Or rather, based off of little snippets of my life that I tell via audio and then illustrate with drawn pictures. I'm not 100% sure what I want my style to be like, though but hopefully I can figure it out.  I went ahead and created a new username on YouTube.com which is OwlsOnFoot. There aren't any videos yet but I'm going to record the voice-over tomorrow and then move from there.  I'm looking forward to the project because my BlackCanaryII account on YouTube wasn't really that great so I didn't really want to stick with it.....or maybe it wasn't great because I didn't stick with it......

........

I'm not sure.  Either way, I'm done with it.

Anyway, no venting or raging tonight. It's 2am and I'm posting this blog from my phone just for giggles, really.  But it will make blotting easier, now that I can do it from my phone....

.....which is better than your phone.....

...be jealous.

Burn.

I Hate Being Sick

So, last night my mother went to the hospital. While I was at work, I realized that my phone was going off in my back pocket. I check it, and my mother has been blowing up my phone. So, I go to call back and my father answers the phone saying, "Everything is okay, the emergency people are here and taking Mom to the hospital." Well, I immediately freak out, of course, leave work and get to the Hospital to see my mother all plugged up to machines and things like that. Of course, I immediately believe that my mother is dying, but somehow manage to keep from crying--I honestly believe it was an act of God, because I was seriously about ready to lose it. My mother was eventually placed in her room, by which time she was apparently feeling better. Bottom line, she had a serious panic attack that she thought was a heart attack, coupled with a serious intestinal viral infection and back-spazms. Not fun for my Mom, but she's okay and was able to come home last night which was great.

But then I, who have been feeling slightly under the weather, wake up this morning and I can't breathe, I can barely talk, I'm coughing up gross stuff and my head feels like it's going to explode. So, as it is, I have called out of work so that I can help my mom get back on her feet, meanwhile I feel like crap.

I'm laying on my couch, trying to fall asleep but I feel so bad and the backs of my eyes hurt so bad that I can't keep them closed for any length of time. Seriously, I feel like my nose is about to explode off of my face. At least then it wouldn't hurt so much.

In any case, I've been getting into shape. Sort of. Right now, my primary goal is to lose all of this extra weight that I've gained by being lazy. I've been at it for three weeks and I've already lost roughly eight pounds--which is kind of interesting. Basically, I've really just been watching what I eat and working out. I also have this great little tool on my phone called "Noom". It helps a lot and it allows me to log what I eat, set small goals for myself, track my weight and work-out patterns. It's pretty nifty. I'm looking to drop back down to my goal weight of 140...which means I have a lot of time to go, but will post it up as I pass certain milestones.

Ah, well. Time to pass out. I'm exhausted and feel like poop. :(

Just Woke Up

So, I just woke up from a little power-nap. And I have to say it sucks. Perhaps it's just the idea of being responsible, but I absolutely hate waking up from a great sleep...only to realize that I have to get ready to go to work. Bleh.

Maybe it's just Target. Because I don't usually wake up and think "Ugh...I have to go to school..." or "...ugh...I have to get a cup of milk for the baby..." Any other kind of responsibility or obligation, or anything really, I don't mind. It's just Target. I'm just so tired of working at a job where I do the same thing every day, get paid sh*t money, and come home too exhausted to play with my children.

I mean, if I was at least getting paid around $10/hour then that might actually be a reason to stay, but as it is I get paid less than $8/hour which is barely enough to pay the few bills I really have, let alone set aside to save up for my children.

I hate it.

But I recently applied to a few places, including my school Book Store (which pays $10/hour and it wouldn't interfere with my classes--boast). I haven't heard anything back yet and it's so disappointing. All I'm trying to do is hang on until I can find something better, but between disappointing job-satisfaction (or lack-there-of) and the bad pay it's getting harder and harder to do the "responsible" thing and get my butt in gear to get ready and go in almost every day.

If it weren't for some of my kids and a few of my co-workers, I would have bailed long ago. Oh, well. Off to work.

"Who Am I? 24601" ...but not really

So, it has been a relatively long time since I've updated my blog. I suppose that is because I have had a lot going on with me as of late. A lot going on, but managing not to get anywhere, if that makes any sense. I rarely vent online--I have a personal journal for that--but I suppose I'm wondering if there's anyone out there that can give me a bit of perspective. Or perhaps, just trying to put who I am and the things I've done (or haven't done) into words that are accessible by pretty much anyone will somehow make me feel like I'm making some kind of leap into becoming the type of person that I want to be. Or if anyone ever wants to get to know me, they can just look at my blog and realize that I am not what I seem--and not in that "oo, she's so mysterious and cool" kind of way. I mean, "Wow...I had no idea she was even capable of those kinds of thoughts...creepy..." but in a negative way.

I don't really think that I've been making a lot of sense yet, so let me just start on the surface:

On the surface, everything looks fine. I would say that I am a pretty average 24-year-old, at least an average, White, American, Female 24-year-old. I would say that I'm mildly attractive, I'm over-weight, wear jeans most of the time, work at Target, go to school full-time for Graphic Design, live with my parents who don't charge me rent, and I have two beautiful, identical little girls that have smiles that make the sun's light seem dull in comparison. I'm single, but it never seems to be an issue, I have a good family even if we have our problems, I can sometimes be over-powering and a little "out-there" but I still manage to find people who tolerate me enough for me to call them friends. I am a somewhat-talented first-year student, studying Graphic Design and I have a lot of opportunities in front of me to succeed in my field. Although I'm not particularly in love with Target, I like the people I work with though not necessarily under. But all in all, I really don't have a lot to complain about--at least nothing that most people would tell me I have any right to complain about.

I'm so tired of people telling me how strong I must be...

Oo...I'm a single mother of twin toddlers...ooo...I'm a full-time student...I'm working on campaigns for Graphic competitions, I'm working as often as I can at Target to try to help my family, the father of my children is with someone else and now has a new baby and I just brush it off...I must be SO strong because I can handle everything going on in my life and manage to wake up with a smile.

Can I just call bullsh*t on all of that?

Okay, yes, I can easily be perceived like I have some semblance of control and that I can balance my life and emotions really well...but it is probably the biggest lie I've ever spun. I'm perceived that way because I want people to think that I am strong, so I can manipulate those around me with what I say and don't say, or the fact that I can behave nonchalantly when really I'm screaming on the inside.

Honestly, I don't want to be perceived as pathetic, although I am.

Let me explain.

Here I am, single, with two daughters that I love, while their father--whom I still love--is with someone else and has a child with her. And interestingly enough, it is my fault that he is with her and not with me because I let my pride and fears get in the way of what I want, and I let others' reactions dictate my life for a long time. And where am I now? I think about him constantly--whether it's good, bad, comparing him to someone else, wishing I could tell him something funny...anything. Meanwhile, I am going about my life, working, going to school, taking care of my children with the help of my family, excelling in Graphic Design and school, and having fun with my friends. Meanwhile, when I get home and it's time to get in bed, I'm acutely aware of how alone I am and how little everything else means because my family is broken and the person that I love and father of my children isn't there to wake up to in the morning. I have literally cried myself to sleep on numerous occasions and as horrible as it sounds, I seek solace in my daughters because without them nothing would be bearable. Meanwhile, I still talk to him, still try to have a positive relationship with him for the sake of our daughters and our own sakes. And I wait, rooting quietly for his relationship to fail because realizes that he is settling for something comfortable and constant (because he knows that she will never leave him, where I have in the past). Basically, I'm waiting for either one of two things to happen: one, they break up and we try again; two, I fall out of love with him.

The disgusting thing is that I know how pathetic it all is, and how disgusting it is to even feel/think like that. It bothers me that I sit and cry and worry about all of this ridiculous nonsense while I have real problems that I'm focusing on, or at least higher priorities. My children, for one, are my biggest priority and instead of worrying about their dad, I should be worrying about them and just be happy and grateful for them. I'm talented, and I should be concentrating on developing my talents and finding a great job in my field or starting my own company. And no matter what I do, no matter how I fill my time or how long I put it off, at the end of the night, I'm sad about all of the stupid things I shouldn't be.

So, what's the definition of "pathetic?" According to Dictionary.com, one definition is "causing or evoking pity, sympathetic sadness..." Yeah...and if I were to tell anyone about how I really feel or how sometimes I feel like I'm hanging on by my f*cking fingernails, people would either pity me or tell me to man up--which I already am.

So, to escape the pity, I "man up" and in doing so I give off this illusion that everything is fine with me and that I don't need anyone or anything, which was never intentional. People take my "strength" for granted and just expect me to be able to handle things, so they tell me things and treat me as if I can take anything that comes at me with a grin. People expect me to make the hard decisions, to be the first one to come up with a solution, to be the "boss", to leave me because I'll make less of a scene than someone else, to be a "friend" instead of anything more, and to be their rock because I'm "so strong and stable".

F*ck that.

I'm tired. Just because I don't loose my sh*t every time I get knocked down a bit does not make me stronger than anyone else, and I'm tired of people just expecting me to keep calm, to handle everything that they can't, and to help them with their problems. I have problems of my own and I don't have anyone helping me and holding my hand except for my parents whom I'm not sure where I'd be without their support.

All I want is to have my little family be a family and to finally be the "girlfriend" not just the "friend". I hate being alone, and although I manage well enough and try to be the best mother that I can be under the circumstances, I'm only surviving and doing what I have to so that I don't drop off of the end of my already frayed and breaking rope.

The Prodigal Son

So, I don't know if I've established this, but I identify myself as a Non-Denominational Christian. If you'd like to know what I mean by that, feel free to ask, but I have absolutely no intention of discussing it publicly on my blog. Moving right along, last night while I was at church, the sermon was centered around Luke 15:1-2, 11-32. If you are unfamiliar with the Bible, that is the story of Jesus telling the story of the "Prodigal Son".

The story is that of a man's son who takes everything his father has to give him (money, a good name, etc) and spites him. The son leaves to go abroad and squanders everything (presumably on prostitutes, booze and gambling) until he is left in poverty. Long story short, he decides to go home (meanwhile, he is starving and presumably pretty gross-looking) to serve as a slave in his father's home because he believes he is not worthy to be his father's son. When he returns home, his father sees him in the distance and runs to embrace him. When the son starts to apologize, his father has a robe and sandals brought to him and declares that there will be a feast in honor of his son's home-coming.

Meanwhile, the son's older brother comes up from the field that he works for his father and questions a servant about the celebration going on. The servant tells the older brother that his brother has come home so his father wanted to throw a celebration in his honor, which upsets the older brother. The older brother lashes out at his father and lays his resentment at his father's feet, stating that his father never celebrated anything for him so why should he celebrate his unworthy brother? the father simply states, "My son...you are always with me, and everything I have is yours. But we had to celebrate and be glad, because this brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found," (Luke 15:31-32).

Well, that's the end of the story basically, and was purposefully left up for interpretation. I'm not going to get into the reasons why and all of that, mainly because I do not want to offend anyone (and lets face it, very few things offend people like conflicting religious beliefs). But after listening to the sermon, it made me think of what I would have happen at the end of the story. I had this insanely vivid image of the father asking the older brother to come into the house to join the celebration (which I believe he actually does in the story, I can't remember right now...maybe). When the older brother is about to refuse, he catches a glimpse of his younger brother and sees his debilitated state. The son would be skin-and-bones, dirty, wearing tattered rags beneath the robe his father had given him, has deep circles under his eyes and hollow cheeks...his hair would be grimy and straggling in his eyes, his beard would be long and unkempt. The older brother would see this and suddenly realize how he had romanticized the son's life of sin. He would see how the son had suffered and be filled with compassion rather than jealousy. And then I had the mental picture of the older brother coming into the celebration--after publicly disrespecting his father--and embracing the son to the point where they are both so over-come with emotion that fall to their knees, the older brother wrapping his arms around the son's shoulders. A circle has formed around the pair, while the festivities have become a blur, though the bright colors and hint of a celebration could be seen like a soft halo of light around them.

It's upsetting. I have this vivid picture in my mind and I have no means to express it. Yes, I've obviously written it, but I have this picture of it in my mind as a water color piece. What upsets me is that I lack the skill to put what exactly is in my mind to any canvas. I suppose I'll try and get frustrated time after time until I eventually get it right. More than anything, I think posting this blog will keep the image in my mind forever. But if I can't convey the image artistically, I wanted to express it with words. It is such a powerful image to have and something that could change someone's life if they see it the way I have. It is only a shame I can't do it justice.

Dream Log 2

So, I'm not quite certain what it is about alcohol that will make you sleep like the dead, but I certainly had one of those evenings where after one drink (went to T.G.I Fridays with some friends last night and partook in a "Cosmo-Rita" ftw) and a large meal with good friends, I was utterly exhausted. As such, when I got home, I knocked out as if I had been shot with a tranq dart.

Honestly, after waking up this morning to my blaring alarm clock and my whiny baby (Rosalie this time) and rushing to get ready so that I could get to class, I can't really remember much of the dream. As it is, it's relatively unfortunate because I do remember that my dream was awesome.

The first part that I remember is that I was standing in a field of what appeared to be wheat. Do you remember the movie Gladiator starring Russell Crowe, when he's dying and he's walking through the rolling, Tuscan hills of golden wheat? Yeah, it was like that. The same high-contrast coloring and everything (obviously, my dreams get pretty detailed). So, I'm walking through this field and the wheat is blowing in the wind and whipping at my stomach. I'm wearing this flowy dress that does not seem to have any distinctive color and for some reason my hair is really long and curly (in reality, my hair barely touches my shoulders and it's Asian-straight). I remember feeling the tips of the wheat whipping me...it kind of felt like it had sawed edges and it kind of hurt a little bit through the fabric of my clothes. I really don't know why I was walking through it, but I just was. It was relatively peaceful and I remember feeling calm, despite the mild pain and irritation of the wheat.

After that, I don't remember too much. But I remember that everything went really dark and I looked down at my hands and they were glowing as if they were fluorescent "day-glow" and a black light was being shined but there was no black light. I know, it's strange but since it's a dream I hope no one will judge me. Ha. So, I'm staring down at my hands and as I'm looking at them, this petrifying sense of foreboding fills my chest to the point where a cold point in the middle of my sternum begins to spread throughout my veins to every single part of my b0dy and I can't feel my legs because I'm so nervous. Suddenly, the lines on my hands (on my palms and the joins at my joints) begin to split open and blood starts pouring from hands in these spider-webby patterns. The lines open up more and more until I can see the gore of the insides of my hands; my muscles are ripping apart to the point where they look like a raw steak being torn. It was bright pink, just like a rare steak, and the blood was this deep red like you see in macabre compositions (photos, digital paintings, stuff like that). My skin-tone had evened out at this point until it looked almost normal, only they were pale (save for where the blood was) and they had that same high-contrast look as before.

Oddly enough, the feeling of foreboding went away and the feeling came back into my legs. That same sense of peace that I had had before returned to me, and I felt utterly calm.

....

And then I don't remember anything else because my stupid alarm clock went off and I didn't have time to just lay still and think about my dream because my daughter woke up and I had to get her up. So, there was really more to that dream but I can't really remember it, but it is unfortunate--like I said. Right now, I'm actually in class and we're discussing basic html (something I already know how to do, so although I'm keeping my ears open for my name, I'm not really paying attention unless I'm helping someone...hence the blog), so I should probably become more involved with the class as of right now. But given the fact that it is a new Term for school, I should probably be paying a little more attention. I like to be engaged in my schoolwork. So, ta' for now!

Side-note: yes, I understand that my dream appears to paint me in a relatively masochistic light but I don't really think I am. It's just a dream. Ha.

Dream Log 1

Okay, so I learned last year while I was pregnant that it was probably a good idea to write down the more interesting dreams. Well, I've decided to blog them in an case, simply because a lot of the time they don't make any sense and it helps me to write them down. Besides, if I blog them, there's a higher chance that I may get some input. Not that anyone reads my insipid blogs as it is. Ha!

In any case, I don't remember a lot of my dream, but I remember one, distinct piece of it:

I remember that I was a child--a young boy (don't ask me why, I have no idea). In fact, it may not have even been me. I might have just been an observer of my dream. It doesn't matter. In any case, there was a young boy, and he seemed very afraid. Like he knew that someone was out to get him. At one point it seemed as if it were Christmas morning and rather than having the presents laid out under the tree, it seemed as if several of the presents were hidden about the house like Easter Eggs. The boy went searching for them, coming across spiderwebs in several locations with rather large, disgusting spiders in them. Bleh.

Moving on, the boy is interrupted by his father (who looked like my father). It's night, and the father appears to be moving something heavy outside, like trash bags or something like that. Either way, it didn't really make any sense. I remember that the boy felt like his dad was the enemy or something like that, but he knew that his dad didn't know it. It was like the boy knew more than the dad did.

It was later then, and the boy was outside of some type of water treatment area, in the road or something like that. I couldn't really understand, but Jeffrey Dean Morgan was there, looking awesome like he did in The Losers (teehee!). He was there for a meeting with the little boy or something like that, explaining that they were next, or someone was coming to get them or something strange like that.

After that the boy has an eventual confrontation with his father, and explains that he knows what the man is doing. Apparently he's been killing off the boy's "team", which I don't really understand--especially considering that it's just a kid. But apparently the dad is not really the one who's been doing it, and they work together to try to figure out who is. Meanwhile, there was a lot of blood and guts all around because somehow they were back at the water treatment area, and and someone had hacked up a body (not sure who's, but I think it was Jeffrey Dean Morgan) and the boy's mother is there, who looked like Kelly Preston. So, the boy tries to protect his mother and father--who knew what was going on but was not a part of it...I don't know--and there was this extreme sense of urgency and foreboding....and then my mom woke me up by plopping Delessi on my chest.

All in all, the dream didn't make much sense and it seemed a lot more intense than what I was able to write here, but I didn't know how to explain it in writing. I love when celebrities pop up in my dreams, though, which happens rather frequently come to think of it. Other than that, I really don't have much to say on the topic. And I wish I could explain more about why people were getting cut up, but I honestly don't know and I can't remember what it looked like in my dream. It was so random. But other than that, I think it was pretty awesome.

Let's Talk About "Glee"!!

So, I haven't stated this in my blog before, but I am a complete gleek. I love the show and I watch it religiously every Tuesday night. It all started one night when my sister had rented the entire first season from Blockbuster--where she used to work (by the way, I'd just like to take the time to say how AWESOME my sister is. Thank you, Ashley. You know why you're awesome!). In any case, she rented it and was watching it before season two came out. She asked me if I'd seen it, and I explained to her how much I hate reality shows (she has a tendency to watch them..."Jersey Shore", anyone? *gag*). Ashley quickly put my fears that another horrible reality show was created to rest, and she informed me that it was more like a musical than anything else. So, she put on the episode where Kurt teaches the football team to dance....and I was instantly in love. And believe me, at this point, my love for "Glee" far surpasses my sister's nuke-warm affection for it.

Let me start off by saying that I completely identify with Rachel. If you're unfamiliar with Rachel Berry, let's just say she's certainly not everyone's favorite sometimes. The "Rachel Berry (Glee") page on Wikipedia at one point describes her as a "...type-A, uber-talented, self-involved know-it-all who's usually alienating her classmates...". And yes, I suppose it's not a good thing, but a lot of the time I find myself feeling the exact same way that she feels when it comes to people. As a singer I sometimes feel a lot more entitled than other people to certain roles (I've been known to have a bf or two behind the scenes of choral concert)--or at least I used to when I was in school. And even now, I easily alienate myself from my co-workers and friends by being too abrasive. From the first time Rachel was introduced, placing a gold star by her name on the sign up sheet for Glee Club in Episode 1, I knew she was going to be my favorite character.

I'm pretty sure the reason why I'm so obsessed with "Glee" is because the world of "Glee" is almost exactly how I wished the world was in real life. Let me explain: In my ideal world, everyone would be able to sing and dance, everyone would randomly burst into song and harmonize perfectly and everyone's mutual respect for music and passion for performing would bring people together to make a spectacular show. I wouldn't necessarily want to be the Rachel Berry of my world, but being a part of something special like that? Yeah, that's definitely important to me.

I suppose I've thought about this way too much. But let's face it, it doesn't look like "Glee" is going anywhere any time soon (thank G-d). The reason it's such a big success is because there's too many crappy reality shows on television and people want a break from real life. People want to feel happy and inspired again and I think "Glee" does that for people. It's like "Dancing With the Stars"--people just want to have a "feel-good" show that they can watch, and maybe even spend some time with their families while they watch it.

Fair thee well, fellow gleeks!

...it's okay. I'm certified!

Fighting Writer's Block

Well, there's been a lot going on recently. Things have been pretty busy, but then what mother of twin infants isn't busy? Of course, I'm thankful for all of the help I have with my family, their father's family and my friends.

But I suppose the thing that's been bothering me the most is that I haven't been able to write. I have a lot that I have to do with my book. It's horrible to have this huge idea, have everything planned out....and then simply be too distracted or tired (there's a thousand excuses) to just sit down and write. It drives me bananas, because when I do actually sit down to write, I forget what I've been writing the next time I get to it, or I'll re-read what I've been writing and it's not as good as I hoped it would be.

I'm sure that what I have to do is just sit down and force myself to do it, but when I do that I don't feel creative. Blah. I really wish I knew how to get over this horrible bought of writer's block. It's not fair--because I role play and things of that nature on IMVU and on AIM and any story-lines I happen to be working on there I do great....it's just having to sit down and do it by myself, I suppose.

Argh. I need to be more focused!

To My Children . . .

Falling leaves circling,
  No sound, save the wind's sweet music.
Laughter and tears,
  Trials and tribulations.
Sunlight shines like angel's song,
  to dance upon our faces.
Spinning until we're lost,
  Falling like the leaves.
Finally, eruptions of laughter.
Peace and Calm.

Trying to Make It

So, yesterday morning started off like any other day. I woke up, fed the babies, let them play while I got ready, got their stuff all packed to spend the day with their Daddy, got them dressed and loaded up into the car, and dropped them off at their Dad's house. Everything was going fine. I kissed them goodbye, and headed off to work.

My ex's house happens to be located near a school and as I was driving off, I noticed all of the kids with their back-packs and all that heading into the building.

Out of nowhere, I had a massive panic attack. I started thinking about all of the things that I'd have to get for them down the road: new school clothes, school supplies, back-packs, school pictures, prom tickets...all of that stuff that I know they'll need or want. Then I realized that, given my situation, I would never be able to provide for my kids the way that I want to.

I mean, I'm a lifeguard. Lifeguards don't exactly bank out every month and as it is, even with WIC and Medicaid and other government assistance, we've been getting by. I don't want to be that type of mother. I mean, realistically, I'd have to work two jobs just to put food on the table, keep clothes on their back, and (hopefully) keep gas in the car--and even then I'd never get to see my kids.

I refuse to be that type of mother.

So, I've decided to go back to school. I've always had a natural talent for web design and graphic design, and I know of a credited tech school where I'll be able to go to school and work while the kids are still small. I'm going to be paying out of my ears eventually to pay off my loans, but I have to do this. I know it's a long way off, at least it can seem like it, but I'll be able to finish school by the time the girls are starting Pre-K.

I've been so passive in my life, waiting for things to happen rather than making them happen. I dropped out of college because I had no idea what I wanted to do, despite my talents, and all I did was screw myself in the end. I can't keep doing what I'm doing. I have to take the offensive in my life and that is certainly what I plan to do.

Working My A-- Off . . . Literally!

Okay, so here's the thing; I posted a blog a while back that pertained to weight loss and the obese. Well, I'm pretty over-weight now. I'm 5' 7" and I weigh over 180lbs. Before I had my kids, I was around 150-160lbs, so I was never exactly "skinny", but I liked my shape and the way my clothes fit. Now, I've become mildly obsessed with getting fit and getting back to a good shape.

I said before how easy it should be to maintain a good weight and how to lose weight if you stick with it and maintain a healthy lifestyle. Well, that's what I'm going to do, and I hope it works. It had always been pretty easy for me to maintain my weight before, so I know that I'm going to have to work pretty hard to lose all of my weight now.

If you read my blog before, I had 7 steps to follow to maintain a healthy lifestyle, so that's what I'm going to do. The biggest thing is that I'm not really going to hard-core diet. I'm going to watch what I eat, yes, and I'm not planning on having a cheese burger every day, but I'm not going to cut out everything I like and starve myself to achieve my ideal weight loss.

I've joined a gym. I'm going to try to go every day, and I've already gone the past two days. I go to Planet Fitness, which is only $20 a month (they also have a membership that is only $10 a month) and it's right next to my house and there's a couple by where I work so I can go there almost every day, which is what I want to do. I'm going to see a personal trainer on Thursday (it's free at my gym) and I'm going to work on a regiment to get rid of my chubby belly, my "thunder thighs", and I'm going to try to increase my upper body strength. Mostly, I just want to get into great shape.

Between work, my girls and the gym, I'm pretty sure life is going to get pretty exhausting, but I know that I can do it, and I will. I'll post updates and let you know how it goes, and everything should work, and I'm willing to work as hard as I have to without killing myself or losing my enjoyment for life, love and food. :)

Feeling Like A Minor Character in My Own Life

Lately I have been realizing how desperate I am to control what people percive me as. I know how I want to be remembered, I know the types of people I want to be around, and I know who I want to be . . . and I couldn't be further from it.

I want to be known as someone who is smart, quick, witty, mysterious, confident, funny, charming, silly, adventurous, sexy, kind, generous, layered, and ecclectic. However, I'm pretty sure I only come off as a loud werido with a habbit of being an asshole.
Obviously, that is not something to be proud of.

I feel like that fellow Norm from "Yes Man" who is so desperate for friendship from the main character, Carl, and he comes off as weird and a little pathetic and sad. But because it's a movie, we find it hilarious. I completely relate to poor Norm. I try so hard to be "cool" and fun that I come off as kind of a retard. And unfortunately, that only attracts other retards.

Don't get me wrong, I have great friends and I love them all. They're all so different and all of them have pieces of their personalities that I really want to encorporate into myself but unfortunately it doesn't really work that way, and I'm sure that I am their weird friend Jen whom they can only stand to be around for a limited amount of time.

I know the types of guys that I'm attracted to, but I seem to repel them and attract ones like me which is hardly a recipe for a successful relationship. Or they're already involved with someone else and I just can't go to that place anymore.

I just feel like such a small, strange, little character in my own life and I just wish that I had what it takes to be the leading lady -- especially of my own story.

Life As A Zombie

Okay, this isn't actually an entry about what it would really be like to be a zombie--although that would be quite interesting (and by interesting, I mean: friggin' AWESOME), so for those of you who were expecting that, sorry. :\ Actually, this is about having to adjust my life and learning how to run on a LOT less sleep than I am used to getting.

Let me start off by saying that G-d blessed me with a gift. That gift is the ability to sleep anywhere and everywhere, and to fall asleep quickly and soundly. I have been known to fall asleep standing in line, on the job, and occasionally under the tables of a bowling alley. Some may view that as a curse, but not I. I am proud of my ability, as sleeping is one of my favorite things in the world to do. In fact, I have been known to marathon sleep--which is to sleep happily all day without interruption except to eat and perhaps pee. I usually get a lot of sleep and I love it.

Now, having said that, when one has twins--or even one new baby--your sleeping patterns become seriously disrupted.

As such, I am now a living zombie.

For me, the normal number of hours of sleep I'm used to getting is somewhere around 9-10, but now? I'm lucky if I get 6. And to some of you, that may seem like a lot.

Well--it's not.

I've been sleeping at work on my breaks a lot more. I take a nap whenever I can, which isn't often because when I'm not with my kids, I'm doing house work, or running errands, working, or finding time to spend with my friends. Life has become one big blurr and only because my children (who, thank the Lord, sleep through the night and are quite good at it) go to sleep at 8pm and wake me up at 5am-7am.

I feel like I'm going to die any minute now.

In fact, I could be sleeping right now.

Goodnight.

Balancing Act

So, my babies are about 3 months old, and life has been getting back on some sort of "normal" track. I mean, as normal as life gets when you're a single mother of identical twins. I love it, and I really love being a mom, but sometimes it can get really hard, but not for the reasons I would have ever thought. It's hard for me to leave them--I feel horribly guilty whenever I leave them, or rather, I feel guilty for wanting to. It's strange. I mean, every mother needs a break now and then, I'm sure. It's so hard for me to just sit with them at home all day by myself. I love them, and I want to take care of them, but I'm so thankful that I have a job now.

Oh, yes. By the way, I got my job back at Aquatica as a lifeguard. I love it so much and to be honest, it's the only job I've ever had that I actually want to keep, which is a little new for me. But it feels so good to be able to get away and kind of provide for my children. I mean, I don't really make a lot and I can't do very much, but everything I can do for them makes me feel like I'm actually doing something right--which is a very big deal considering I've never really had any kind of straight priorities.

What I really feel guilty about is going out at night and things like that without my girls. I feel horrible because I still want to go out and do things, and it's hard to balance that with being a mother. I mean, I still have friends and I still like to have fun outside of the house but it's kind of hard when I go out and have a great time without them--especially when I love them as much as I do.

It's just hard sometimes, I guess.

But all of those awkward feelings that I was having before are officially gone. Sometimes it's hard for me to grasp that these are my babies, but only because they're so beautiful and sweet. I just can't believe that this is my life sometimes, and I've never been happier.

Second Guesses and Awkward Feelings

Before I get into the meat and potatoes of this blog, I'd just like to throw in a little disclaimer. I love my children more than anything. I love being a mother. Through the late-night feedings, the fussiness, and the dirty diapers, nothing makes me happier than when I'm holding my happy babies in my arms, looking into their big, brown eyes with their long, fluttering eyelashes or when I can soothe their cries simply by walking into their line of vision.

That being said, sometimes I feel a bit detached and I'm not sure if that's normal.

The second I had my children in my arms, I felt that instant connection--that bond that every mother prays she'll feel once she sees her children. Luckily, I didn't have hours and hours of a painful labor to dull any of those feelings, and all I felt was a surge of absolute protective, motherly love.

What kind of scares me is that I don't feel that way all of the time. Even when I have one of my girls in my arms, or when I go about the motions of the day--feeding them, doing their laundry, changing them, etc--I don't feel like a mother. Sometimes I feel detached from them, like I'm just taking care of them for someone else or I'm an aunt or something. It's such an awkward feeling. Sometimes I have to remind myself that I'm their mother, that these little girls are going to be with me for the rest of my life and I'm going to be taking care of them and there's never going to be a break from it (even though sometimes I feel like I can really, really use one, haha).

I suppose it will sink in a little bit more as time passes by but I think what I'm afraid of is that instead of sinking in, it will just feel more and more unattached. I can't really imagine that happening, of course, but the fear is still there sometimes. Luckily, they're only a month old, so I have years and years to sit on the topic and just let it eat away at me until I go mad. Just kidding.

Until everything settles with me, though, it's not that difficult to deal with. I mean, I still have those radiating moments of pure, motherly love. Not to mention I have the sweetest, most adorable, beautiful, little girls on the planet. <3 But of course, I'm kind of bias. :)

Who Knew This Could Happen?

To all of those people who have said to me over the years: "You'll feel differently when it's your children" . . . bring on the I-told-you-so's. I never in a million years could have expected motherhood to be like this. My entire perspective and thought-process has seem to do a 180° in the span of an hour and I've never been happier in my life.

To recap the past few weeks:
My children, Delessi May and Rosalie Marie, were born at 5:33pm (in the same minute!) on March 2, 2010 via elective cesarean. I developed postpartum preeclampsia after my babies were born and everyone was afraid that I was going to have a stroke or something because my blood pressure was so high. Eventually my blood pressure went down a little and after 3 days in the hospital my babies and I were able to come home. Since then my recovery has been extremely swift, despite a brief scare with Rosalie they have been 100% healthy, happy babies and I'm feeling better than I have ever felt in my life.

I had never imagined that motherhood would be like this for me. I had heard how there's the instant bond between mother and child and that the love the mother feels can be sudden and all-consuming. I never really believed that it would be like that for me. I never expected that I would just be able to look at my girls and start tearing up because they're such amazing, perfect, little angels. I never, in a hundred years, would have imagined that I would have a maternal bone in my body. But all of my doubts and assumptions were quickly evaporated into thin air the moment I saw my girls in the OR. I literally broke down in tears of joy the minute I heard them cry and ever since then I've been in love.

Everything in my life seems easier. Even being a mother--a task that I imagined would be daunting and that I would have a lot of trouble bonding with my children because, A: I had never even held a newborn in my life and had no idea how I was going to learn how to be a mother, and B: I've never really been a baby person to begin with--has become as natural to me as breathing. Despite the juggling needed with twins and the exhaustion that comes of it, I don't feel overwhelmed and feel so blessed because the girls seem to be happy, contented babies. They're rarely fussy, and even when they are, I'm not alone. Between my mother, my father, my sister and occasionally my brother-in-law, I have a great support system this far and I never seem at a loss for help when I need it.

Honestly, I just never thought it would be like this--that this could happen to me. From the second I saw them, I could never imagine a world without them in it. All I want is to be there for them and to be good for them. As someone who has always suffered from some kind of emptiness and darkness within my mind, it all seems filled with joy and light. I just don't think the way that I used to anymore. And all of the drama and the seemingly daunting aspects of everyday life seem so miniscule now that I can't imagine why everything seemed so hard before. I look at my life before March 2nd and I don't even know that person anymore, and it feels great.

Below are just a few pictures of the girls. I obviously have a lot more, but I just wanted to post up a few here because I'm so proud of them.


Rosalie and Delessi


Delessi


Rosalie


Nessie and Rosie with Mama

Fighting Obesity--Really???

In case you were as of yet unawares, the obesity rate throughout the world is at an all-time high, and America seems to be at the fore-front. Apparently, over the past twenty years there has been a drastic increase in the obesity rate in America (ironically enough, that spans my life...I just thought that's interesting). I found a webpage with an interesting article titled, Obesity and Overweight for Professionals: Data and Statistics which defines obesity as "a body mass index (BMI) of 30 or greater. BMI is calculated from a person's weight and height and provides a reasonable indicator of body fatness and weight categories that may lead to health problems".

The only reason I even bring this topic up, is because it reminded me of something I was talking about with my sister yesterday.

For a little back story, let me start by saying that I am the only person in my immediate family--and most of my extended family, from what I can tell--that I know of who is not over-weight (however, right now, I feel like a cow because I'm 9 months pregnant with twins, but that really doesn't pertain to the topic at hand). I've always had a bit of a weight complex, mainly because everyone around me was over-weight and I was always scared of being fat. Being 5'7" and fighting heredity has made keeping my weight at least average very important to me, I suppose.

Because I've never really struggled with a weight problem, I will go on the record as saying that I can't really see things from my sister's point of view, but I can't imagine it's been easy for her--especially lately with her trying to lose weight and get into good shape.

Yesterday, I decided to go to Wendy's because--being pregnant--I was super-craving one of their new fish fillet sandwiches. I got the largest size, but didn't really want my fries (just my sandwich and my ginormous coke...yum >^^<) so I'd share them with my sister. While she and I were talking about various things over lunch, she suddenly brought up fast-food in relation to parenting--at least for her.

"My children aren't ever going to have McDonalds or any of that stuff until they're older--like grown kids..." she declared.

I was kind of shocked to hear her say this, especially since McDonlads has become slightly more health-conscious with their variety of sides for children and what-not, so I replied, "That really doesn't make sense. That's like the lady who blamed McDonalds for her dumbass spilling her hot coffee on herself."

I mean, am I wrong? I seriously can try to understand her point of view--she's overweight and doesn't want her children to have to deal with the emotional and physical pain of that condition--but really, she's going to push it that far? It just doesn't make sense to me. Yes, fast-food has a tendency to be unhealthy and loaded with fat and all of that...but that doesn't mean that you have to eat it to the point where you're morbidly obese. Or, I mean, you can exercise and have an active life-style so that you can eat what you want--within reason--and still maintain a healthy weight.

I know my sister isn't the only person who feels this way on the planet.

I understand, it's easier to blame "The Man" rather than take responsibility for the fact that a person would eat like a glutton--unable to tell when his/her body had had enough--and then proceed to lounge around in front of the television or computer rather than get outside and ride a bike or go for a swim or something.

I'm not going to say I'm perfect by any means, but I do know my body and I know that obesity runs in my family. I'm not skinny--like I said, I'm happy being average--and perhaps, according to some, I could stand to lose a few pounds anyway, but I'm not going to place the blame on outside influences. It was my decision to go to Sonic and get a double cheese burger, tots, and a rootbeer float. No one twisted my arm. (Oo. That sounds really good right now, by the way.) It was me who decided to sit on my butt in front of my computer for two hours playing Shaiya online rather than going outside for a nice walk or something.

I suppose there are tons of excuses people can make for why they are the way they are. But I'm happy for my sister, at least. She decided to stop making excuses and has been working out, watching what she eats, and is trying to maintain a healthy lifestyle while still doing the things she enjoys. Good for her. I'm assuming her goals are realistic, and they seem to be, and she seems happier and has more energy now which is great. I just feel bad for the people who are still sitting in front of the TV, salivating over a Denny's commercial while they're eating an entire bucket of fried chicken by themselves.

It may seem harsh, I know, but this isn't something that I'm afraid to say to someone's face--which I have--so I have no problem posting it online. I'm sure I may have ruffled a few feathers, but I do want to help more than anything. Below is my own list for living a healthy lifestyle--realistically-speaking, that is--from an average person, and not some self-proclaimed fitness guru or anything like that. Also, after my babies are born, I'll also put up my regiment for myself for losing the near-50 pounds that I've gained during my pregnancy, and hopefully that will help some people out there, too.

1. Balance


Everyone talks about balance--whether it's your diet or your mind, and it's true. But let me break down how I view balance. Don't be afraid of food; eat what you enjoy within reason. Don't starve yourself or anything crazy like that. If you decide you want a Big Mac or something, have one--but don't over indulge, and balance out that delicious treat by taking the stairs instead of the elevator or going for a long walk. You don't have to kill yourself at a gym, but manage your time wisely when it comes to "relaxation".


2. The Non-Diet


Dieting can be a challenge, so you can't think of it as a diet because somehow that puts everything a little farther out of reach for you--I don't know why, but I know it does. Like I said before, don't starve yourself, but know when you're full. If you have a tendency to eat a lot before your full because your stomach is large at this point, then fill it with stuff that's good for you and easy for your body to process like grains, proteins, vegetables...and trust me, they can be prepared in a way so that they taste good to you. You don't have to sacrifice as much as you think when it comes to just watching what you eat.


3. Toss the Scale


I know, it sounds crazy, but the bathroom scale is a big, fat liar, and it hates you. Okay, that's a little extreme. But seriously, the scale can lie to you. If you're mixing a fitness routine with a diet, the muscle-mass you gain weighs more than the fat that you may be losing, so the numbers aren't going to add up right. If you're simply dieting or something, the numbers will depress you if they aren't going down as fast as you would like and it'll only make you want to take drastic measures which may not be the best thing. Instead, base your weight loss around what you see in the mirror, or what your friends say, or even by how your clothes are starting to fit. Trust me, it feels a lot better when you hear someone say "Wow, have you been losing weight? You look great!" rather than what those bitchy numbers on the scale say.


4. H2O


Drink lots of water. That's an easy one. You don't have to substitute water for every drink you have a day but your body needs and craves it. A lot of people don't know what the natural thirst for water feels like so they'll try to satisfy it with a coke or tea or something, and it won't work. Don't underestimate how satisfying a bottle of water can be.


5. Exercise...duh


Okay, let's face it. Not everyone can or even wants to live at a gym, and I don't know about you, but stationary bikes and crap like that drive me nuts--I mean, all of that peddling and you go nowhere? Screw that. Do something that you will actually enjoy as a form of exercise. Go to the park and walk around for a while and maybe feed some ducks. Go swimming. Play with your kids outside. Go out dancing or something. Seriously, just keep yourself active. Maybe you'll actually find yourself wanting to spend less time in front of the TV or computer.


6. Set Realistic Goals for Yourself


If you're 5'7" like me, chances are that you're never going to weigh 90 pounds and be a size 0 and there's a good chance you could kill yourself if you try to attain that. Everyone's body is different. Talk to your doctor about setting goals ideal for your body type--or just Google like a fiend. The most important is that you get to a place that you are content with, whether you need to lose 10 pounds or 110. Just keep the goal within a healthy reach.


7. Be Happy


To me, this seems to be the most important thing. A lot of people are depressive eaters, or eat when they get bored. Fill your time with something that you really enjoy doing. If you suffer from depression or have depression symptoms, talk to a doctor. I've noticed that when you feel good your desire to be active increases and you'll actually want to get out there and not sit around all day. Even if you have a lot of stress in your life, if you find a way to let go of that stress and just take a moment for yourself--whether it's playing a game with your kid, joking with a friend, walking your dog, or reading a book--you'll feel better about a lot of things and your goals will seem more attainable.

I know a lot of what I've said can be argued with "Well, that's great, but it's easier said than done." To be honest, that's true. It's very easy to write out a list of what I think is a "healthy lifestyle" and tell everyone to follow it. Taking the first step to altering your life is always difficult and for some it may never happen--especially depending on what that first step may be. I also know that some people are mentally and emotionally stronger than others, but that doesn't really mean that things are easier for them. Everything is relative and you have to apply what people say and the advice that people give in a way that pertains specifically to you. Sometimes, that simple alteration can make everything a lot easier for you.

My First Late Night Hospital Visit...

So, last night was kind of an adventure. As some of you may know, my baby shower was yesterday, and it turned out to be a really lovely event. I was thankful my family and friends were able to come and that I was able to participate in the day despite blinding back-pains and horrible swelling of my feet. During the shower, I remember saying something along the lines of, "Well, thank God I made it past my shower--that was my big concern--now they can come out!" jokingly to my sister. Well, apparently, that was a really bad choice of words.

Around 10-something, I started having my normal Braxton-Hicks contractions. They weren't painful at all, just the normal tightening of my stomach. Of course, I've been having bad pains for a while now throughout my entire body, so I didn't think much of it when these pains started spreading to my back. To be honest, it wasn't until I got up to go to the restroom at around 11:45pm that I started having shooting cramps throughout my pelvis. I figured walking would help since it usually did, but every time I seemed to move they only got worse and my contractions started getting painful. By 1am this morning, I was sitting in the living room with my mother, watching NatGeo (National Geographic, in case you didn't know) and my contractions were coming about ever 10-11 minutes and they were bareable, but I had a lot of pain in my lower back, my groin was hurting badly, my pelvis, and everything seemed to radiate down into my thighs. Nothing really seemed to help the pain ebb, either.

By this time, it was time to consult the baby books and read over symptoms of false labor, pre-labor, and active labor. (As a side note, I feel so bad for my mother, who must have been shitting her pants, but managed to keep it together. She's usually very emotional and quick to get excitable, so the fact that she managed to remain calm is a huge stepping stone for her, and I'm glad to learn that come my actual delivery, she might not fall to pieces.) My mother and I scoured the texts, trying desperately to determine my symptoms. Unfortunately, since all pregnancies and subsequent deliveries are different, no one can exactly explain what a contraction is "supposed" to feel like, so all of the books say the same thing: they list off symptoms and say "If you experience any of these symptoms, contact your doctor or midwife right away," so that's what I did. As a result, at around 1:40am, my mother, father, sister and I were on our way to the Winne Palmer Hospital for Women & Babies.

After parking, being sent to triage and registering (which, blessedly, only took a few minutes), my mother and I were escorted to a oddly-shaped--though not unpleasant--room where I was to be tested and monitored. The lengthy processes of monitoring my identical twins' near-perfectly synced heart beats, the strength of my contractions, and putting me on an IV Drip took nearly 2 hours in itself, while my sister and my father waited in the triage waiting center for any news from my mother, who was in the room with me. After being monitored for a while, the doctor was finally able to come in and check me, and told me that I wasn't dilated at all--thank goodness--but that I would still have to be monitored for awhile because my blood pressure had been a little high and my contractions were still coming regularly. So, after spending another hour being monitored, I was given a lovely pill that quieted my abdomen's spazams and, blessedly, induced drowsiness.

As it turns out, my pre-labor pains were perfectly normal, my blood pressure turned out to settle back down, and the fear that I may have had preclampsia was finally resolved. Apparently, due to the fact that I'm having identical twins, it's a lot easier for my abdominal wall to be set off into contractions than it would be for a singleton gestation. As a result, any slight dehydration, being overly-active or the babies shifting about too much can trigger spazams that will turn into contractions that, though they are painful and feel just like true labor contractions, will not induce actual labor since that is strictly horomonal. They wrote me a prescription for a lovely drug that will cause these spazams relax when I have them and will help the pain to ebb (and also knock me out, which is great, considering I have most of my contractions and pains in the early morning hours anyway).

All in all, the event wasn't entirely unpleasant, as I learned how to differentiate my contractions and help to ease the false contractions should I have another episode before I'm ready to deliver. The only thing I really wish I could have helped was the simple fact that my poor sister and father were left in a waiting room for nearly four hours, and that my mother was extremely anxious and nervous for me and her grandbabies. As a result, I've come up with a few helpful tips when dealing with waiting rooms and/or waiting in a hospital room:

1. Invest in Bringing an Electronic Device


Whether your cell phone has games or you have an amazing playlist on your MP3 player, this is an electronic era. If the hospital allows electronics (some still don't), make sure that you have your Nintendo DS or something on hand to help pass the time. If you're stuck in a waiting room it can help time fly and help ease your worries or fears in between updates on the patient.


2. Read, Read, Read


Let's face it--it's a waiting room. There are going to be magazines and stuff on hand. But magazines can only help so much. Bring a book or a comic or something with you that you actually want to read. This is also helpful if you're actually in the waiting room with the patient, too, as it will keep your mind busy enough so that you may distract yourself from worrying a bit.


3. Hangin' Wit' Yo' Peeps


Although some people may find themselves alone in a waiting room, if you came with someone or someone you know is there (even someone you may not be particularly fond of), then chatting idly to pass some time definitely helps. Again, it serves a distraction from worrying, and you may learn something you didn't know before. If you're in the room with the patient, and he/she is able to talk, then DO it. It won't only help you, but it will make things easier on the patient as well!


4. Food


Sometimes hospitals don't allow food in waiting rooms or in hospital rooms (and if the patient isn't allowed to eat, you shouldn't eat in front of him/her, btw), but if they do, it's always nice to have a snack handy because you know that your stomach is gonna' start grumbling eventually. Not to mention that if you wind up being hungry without anything to satisfy you, it's gonna' make waiting around seem a lot longer.


5. Updates--and I don't mean on Twitter


If you're in the room with the patient and learn new information--whether it's good or bad--make sure you keep those in the waiting room informed. That's why they're there, waiting for information or to be allowed back into the room that you're already in. Trust me, any news is better than sitting around, worrying and dredging up the worst possible outcomes of a situation.


6. Make the Best of It


I know you're tired--it's probably 3am somewhere and you're stuck in a hospital when all you want to do is go to sleep--but try to stay positive. It's the best thing that you can possibly do for yourself. Though it may seem hard, you'll find that if you try to keep a smile on your face you'll set yourself at ease, and even those around you--especially if you're with the patient and, let's face it, he/she really needs to be kept as relaxed as possible.

Waiting Impatiently

So, I've kind of just been trying to deal with my own boredom lately. The unfortunate thing is that I keep thinking of things to do but I either hurt too badly to do them, don't have money/gas, or things just fall through. It's driving me a little crazy, but I suppose it could always be worse. The bright side is that my friends have unknowingly been lifting my spirits. They've been calling and texting out of the blue and it's really helped me to know that I'm being thought of and that people are taking the time to check up on me. It's funny, because I really didn't even realize how much I was missing my friends until they started calling out of the blue.

I know it seems kind of archach (did I spell that right?) to have locked myself away for most of my pregnancy, but I can't help it. I'm sure a big part of it has to do with the fact that I haven't been working so I have no money, but honestly I just don't like going out right now. First of all, I'm huge and super-obviously pregnant, and I hate it when people stare at me. Second of all, it's very hard for me to move around and stuff like that because all the weight I've gained is really hard on my joints and bones. I suppose that's it. I mean, all of my friends and stuff know that I'm pregnant--it's not like it's some big, huge secret--but I don't want to be seen like this, I guess. It makes me feel a little vain to admit that, but I can't really help it, and it'll be over soon.

Other than that, I've just really been dealing with helping getting things ready for my baby shower this Saturday. I've taken my maternity photos, and they've turned out great. Right now they're out being retouched and printed but I saw the raw contact sheets of a few photos and they really look great. I'm really pleased with the work done. Baby showers have never really been my cup of tea, but I guess I'm sort of looking forward. I'm not going to lie, I have one of those personalities that kind of scream "look at me, look at me!" but I actually really don't like being the center of attention at all.

There really hasn't been a lot for me to do lately as a whole, but I've mostly been looking forward to the things I'll be able to do after the babies are born, and getting ready for them. In the mean time I've just been doing what I can do to stay busy, such as making plans and stuff for my vlog that's on YouTube at BlackCanaryII (who incidentally is my favorite super heroine). Unfortunately, I haven't really felt up to updating lately, simply because I feel like crap all of the time, ha. But luckily updating my blog on here isn't actually very difficult. But, when you're in my position, it's helpful to have some tips on hand for dealing with this strange "pregnancy boredom":

1. Try to Stay Active


If you can, go for walks or swim or something that will keep your body in motion. For me, I tend to walk a lot because right now it's too cold to swim. If you're doctor has advised against walking, I would suggest floating around in a pool or at least flexing your limbs.


2. Read Up


Invest in a lot of books or magazines. Make sure you don't only get pregnancy magazines and books, though, because they'll just make you even more impatient about having your baby. Read what you wanted to read before you got pregnant and didn't have time for.


3. Don't Underestimate the Power of the Internet


I know it sounds dumb, but the internet has seriously been saving my life. Between the swarms of videos on YouTube and the games and networking on Facebook and the like, you can fill your day. Although, if you can help it, I wouldn't spend all day on the computer.


4. Netflix or Blockbuster


...Can be your best friend. You know how your friends may have suggested movies for you to see but you never got around to it? Now's a great time to get around to it. Movies help pass time and trust me, you'll be thankful for it.


5. Keep a Journal


Or a blog or something of the like. If you don't have a lot of people to talk to, or feel like you don't, then a Journal or Blog or anything simular is a great way to vent and say what you need to say. If you decide to keep your writings private, it's the perfect opportunity to get out everything that you may be too afraid to say aloud, or are afraid of being judged for. Trust me, pregnancy is hard, and we all have had less than rainbow-bright thoughts.


6. Keep Your Phone Close


Keeping your phone on you is a smart idea, and not just for emergency reasons. Trust me, at some point you're going to need to reach out and will need your friends. And when your friends call or text you, you'll feel good to know that there's still someone that you can count on when you're feeling blue or bored out of your mind.